


Tea For Two and Two For Tea

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Louis turns small one day, M/M, Tiny!Louis, and harry finds him, thats it thats the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis turns five centimeters tall one day at work. Harry accidentally takes him home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea For Two and Two For Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Tea For Two and Two For Tea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1546817) by [happytinylou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/happytinylou/pseuds/happytinylou)



> I saw this as a prompt on tumblr and ran with it. This is the result.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr @ tomlinsuhhn if you want.

When Louis thinks back on it, he realizes he doesn't actually know how he got here. He's working at the cafe, diligently as ever, cleaning the teacups stocked next to the cappuccino maker like he did every day after his shift. He starts to feel a bit fuzzy in the head but figures it was only tiredness - he's been at the cafe since six in the morning and it was currently closing in on ten at night (which he was pretty sure wasn't actually legal, but his boss was a cunt that wouldn't bother to care if Louis complained and the pay was good so he just dealt with it), and that's why he really hasn't paid the cottony feeling behind his eyes any mind.

****

It's only when that fuzziness turns into a black cloud does Louis get concerned.

****

He doesn't have much time to be concerned, though, because the second he feels the clouds come he blacks out, waking up seconds later on the ground in a coffee shop that looks a thousand times taller than it'd been the last time he'd seen it.

****

Louis struggles back to his feet, fighting the spinning in his head. He braces a hand on the wall next to him, shaking himself until he can see straight again. He looks around, cautiously scoping out his surroundings.

 

It's definitely the same coffee shop, that much he knows, but what had been only as tall as his waist when he'd walked in that morning is now what seems like a mountain in front of him. Louis shakes his head, more confused now than ever, and on a spin around to try to right himself in his surroundings, he catches his reflection on the metal paneling that lines the bottoms of the cafe's wooden cabinets.

****

The first thing he notices is that he could see his whole reflection in the paneling.

****

The second thing he notices is that he's suddenly only five centimeters tall.

****

He doesn't have time to make a third observation because he's blacking out again, falling to the floor in a fit of overwhelming shock, the trip to the ground much, much shorter this time.

****

x

****

The next time Louis wakes up, he's got a better handle on exactly what the hell is going on. First, he's still trapped in the cafe. Second, somehow, some way, he's magically shrunken to a height of somewhere around five centimeters and, no, he isn't hallucinating. He even pinches himself to make sure. Looking down at himself, Louis' glad to discover that his clothes have appeared to have shrunken along with the rest of his body so Louis' not left standing completely buck-arse naked on the floor.

****

Third, there is a teacup about to roll off the edge of the counter and land right on him if he doesn't get the fuck out of the way right then.

****

Scrambling off to the side, Louis manages to dive to safety right as the teacup falls, bouncing precariously instead of shattering like Louis had expected it to before rolling haphazardly off to the side. There is, however, a quite large chip in the side that probably seems a lot bigger to Louis than it actually is.

****

Sighing, Louis gets to his feet, looking around the enormous cabinets and counter tops to try to find a safe place to bunk for the night because, more than likely, he was going to be spending the night in the cafe, and frankly, he was dead tired as it was and in no way felt like doing anything but sleeping.

****

He finds an option in the open pastry display that he'd thankfully been too lazy to close when he'd been cleaning out the goodies that hadn't been bought during the day. He also thanks himself for being enough of a defeatist to not finish the job before moving on the another one, leaving about five or so fluffy muffins still sitting in the bottom of the display.

****

It takes him nearly five minutes to walk from his place by the cabinets to the display case and he can't help but feel a bit disgruntled. It would have taken him two steps to go between the two at his normal size, and it'd taken five minutes. He grumbles angrily to himself, climbing up the blissfully low edge of the display towards the random array of muffins.

****

Louis pokes at them before deciding that the banana one was the best option for comfort and, with a bit of manual labor to dig out a hole big enough for him to curl into, climbs into the muffin.

He rolls around a few times before finding a comfortable position and closes his eyes, hoping that he'll be able to get out of the case if he woke up in the morning at normal height.

****

x

****

Louis' woken up the next morning by the sound of the bell on the front door, signalling the arrival of who was most likely Liam. Liam, the lovable puppy he is, always picks up the early morning shifts that nobody else wanted, that exact same early morning shift that had turned into an all-day shift that Louis had picked up the day before.

****

Louis stretches in his muffin, huddling down when Liam comes around the corner into the work area, tying an apron around his waist. Louis considers calling out to Liam for a moment or two but decides against it, figuring that it isn't worth the trouble to get Liam involved when he himself doesn't even know how long he's going to be small for and doesn't want to cause Liam the trouble if he's going to go back normal in an hour or something.

****

Louis watches Liam putter around with the coffee machines, setting one on brew before he turns to the half-cleaned display case. Louis cowers inside his muffin, hiding himself from Liam's disproving stare. He hears Liam sigh, turning around and fetching the rubbish bin before he makes his way back to the display.

****

Louis takes the chance of Liam's momentary distraction with the other muffins to scramble out of his, jumping out of the case and scrambling behind Liam, giggling lightly to himself as he hides behind Liam's knee.

****

Louis jumps and scurries out of the way when Liam gets up, arms full of muffins before he dumps them into the rubbish bin. Liam sighs, running a hand through his hair. His eyes scan around the cafe's tiny little behind-the-counter work space, rolling his eyes when he spots the chipped teacup on the floor.

****

"Doesn't anybody clean up in this place when they close?" Liam grumbles to himself and Louis crosses his arms over his chest in indignation. It's not like it was his fault the cafe hadn't gotten clean - he was sort of experiencing something at the moment that was much more important.

Louis skitters out of the way when Liam bends down to pick up the teacup, only to dash back and hop into it when he realizes that it might be his only way to get up off the floor and safely away from any feet that could be the source of his untimely death over the course of the day, curling into a ball inside the teacup and praying that Liam doesn't see him.

****

Thankfully, Liam sets the teacup on the counter without a second glance, tipping it upside down to remind himself to take it to the trash when he had a moment, unknowingly spilling Louis out of it before trapping him under it as well.

****

"Fucking hell," Louis grumbles to himself, laying down on his stomach and peering out of the chip, trying to judge if it was big enough for him to crawl out of. He isn't too keen on spending the rest of his time being small - however long that turns out to be - trapped inside of an busted teacup.

****

Grumbling to himself when he realizes the chip isn't big enough for him to crawl out of, Louis sits down with legs crossed, listening to the sounds of Liam puttering around with the brewers in preparation for the morning rush of students headed off to Uni bright and early.

****

Liam's whistling a tune to himself that Louis finds oddly soothing and, after having what was quite a fitful sleep last night inside of his muffin, feels his eyes getting heavy as he slowly starts to doze off under the teacup, curling up into a tiny ball under his porcelain shelter and falling asleep in only minutes.

****

x

****

The chatter of voices is what pulls Louis from his nap, uncurling and stretching out bodily under the teacup. It takes him a second to remember where he is and why he's under a teacup, an he takes another second to wonder to himself why he's not freaking out. He would have thought before if he kept waking up only five centimeters tall he'd be having a massive freak out by now, but, surprisingly, he still feels pretty okay mental-state-wise.

****

Louis crawls to the chip, peeking out and grinning happily when the rich scent of the coffee hits him. He's always loved the smell of fresh-brewed coffee, and he's happy to realize that nothing else about him has changed aside from his height.

****

Liam's at the front, serving a pretty girl with curly hair that Louis' seen around the cafe a couple of times before, thinks her name is Dalia or Dana or Danielle, something like that. She always orders a caramel macchiato with a shot of cream and Louis watches with a dopey smile as Liam hands her her drink with a cherry red flush on his high cheeks.

****

Louis can't see the clock on the wall from his vantage point but the number of people in the cafe tells him it's probably around ten in the morning, right around when the few Uni students taking summer classes stop rushing in and they just get the occasional stray customer who'd found themselves sacked by a hankering for coffee of some sort at the odd time of ten in the morning.

 

Liam bids the girl - Danielle, Louis thinks, it's definitely Danielle - goodbye, still flushed deep red as she offers him a tiny wave before leaving the cafe with her drink in hand. Liam turns back to the counter where Louis' teacup is sitting, eyeing it speculatively before grabbing it and flipping it back right-side up, hand covering the top of it and effectively hiding Louis from view.

****

Which would've been quite alright if Liam wasn't heading out the back door to the dumpster where he most likely planned to throw the broken teacup out and, by association, dump Louis into the trash as well.

****

Louis is just about to reach up and pinch Liam's palm to make him aware of his presence - because even though he didn't want to get Liam involved in his little 'situation,' he wasn't too keen on being chucked in a dumpster that he would have zero hope of getting out of at his current size - when a slow, deep voice sounds from the customer counter, calling out to Liam politely.

****

"Um, excuse me?" The voice asks and Liam whirls around, the force of it knocking Louis around inside of the teacup. Louis groans, rubbing the back of his head where it knocked not-so-softly against the side of the hard porcelain.

****

"How can I help you?" Liam asks breezily, teacup still in hand.

****

"This might sound weird but, um, were you about to go throw that teacup out?" The voice - it's definitely male, Louis decides, and too young-sounding to belong to somebody over 25. A student, Louis guesses. Probably the most accurate assumption.

****

"Um, yes, I was," Liam says. "Did you need something?"

****

"I was um, I was just wondering if instead of throwing the teacup out, could I have it, maybe?" The boy asks, voice sheepish. "I sort of collect them. Broken teacups from all over, I mean."

****

"Oh!" Liam says, laughter in his smooth voice. "Sure, you can have it, then!"

****

"Really?" the boy perks up, voice jovial. "Thanks, really."

****

"No problem," Liam's grinning now, Louis can tell by the tone of his voice. Louis feels himself being passed over in the teacup before being dumped inside something smelling like old leather and figures he must've just been shoved inside the boy's bag. "Would you like something besides that?"

****

"No, I'm alright," the body shifts, probably to lift something to show it off. A coffee, perhaps. "You have a nice day, though," the boy pauses, "Liam. And thank you for the teacup."

****

"It's no problem," Liam laughs. "Saves me a trip out to the dumpster."

****

The boy laughs and Louis, for some reason, finds himself smiling, something about the sound of the boy's voice making it impossible for him not to. The boy shifts again before he says, "I'd better be off, got class in a few," and Louis thinks he's just checked his watch. He said he had classes to go to, though, which is odd to Louis because most of the morning classes at the Uni around the corner start at eight.

****

Unless this boy who's bag Louis' been inexplicably poured into is going to the arts building, where classes don't start until half ten. Which, Louis thinks, would be very fitting for this boy - an art student who collects broken teacups. Very ajusté.

****

"Have a nice day," Liam chirps and Louis knows from experience that Liam's just waved goodbye. Little quirk of his that Louis finds oddly endearing.

****

"Thank you, you too," the boy says and Louis feels the world shift as the boy whirls around, hears the bell above the door of the cafe jingle and that's when it hits him that he's just been taken by some random student that he doesn't even know. He has no idea who this kid is, where he lives, or what he's just gotten himself into.

****

Louis wraps his arms around himself, curling up into a ball, leaning against the side of the bag as it sways with the boy's steps, feeling, for the first time since he woke up small, a tight ball of panic welling up in his chest.

****

x

 

Turns out Louis was right about the boy being an art student, because he can smell it the second the boy walks into what must be the Arts Wing of the local Uni. It smells like plaster and paint and charcoal, and Louis finds it, for some reason, extremely calming.

****

Louis yelps when the bag is thrown onto what he assumes is a very hard table, landing with a loud thump. Louis whimpers, rubbing his shoulder where it slammed against the surface of the table.

****

"Harry!" A thickly-accented voice calls, and Louis perks up in interest. "'Bout time you got here, mate."

****

"Had to make a quick detour," the boy replies and now Louis has a name to match with the voice. Harry.

****

"Collecting more trash for your flat?" The voice asks and Louis identifies that thick accent as Irish. Neat.

****

"They're not trash, Niall," Harry replies, sounding farther away than he'd been the last time he spoke. "They're treasures."

****

Niall snorts. "Alright, if you say so."

****

Both Niall and Harry sound as if they're a safe enough distance away that Louis can risk sticking his head out of Harry's bag to take a look around, so Louis creeps slowly to the lip of the bag, knocking the flap out of the way until he can poke his head out into the light.

****

He gives himself a pat on the back for being completely and utterly correct, because, just as he'd assumed, he's inside a huge, white-walled art studio, spotted with paintings and sculptures and drawings all over. There's a small stage with a couple chairs positioned around it set up in the far left corner of the room, and what Louis guesses is a small dark-room in the right.

****

The rest of the studio is a mess of tables and easels and cabinets spilling with every art supply Louis can name, and then some. There's only a few people in the studio at the moment: a girl with pink hair painting an easel with her fingers, a boy with a blond quiff and black glasses perched on his nose molding something out of clay that Louis thinks just looks like a blob, and then a tall boy with curly hair standing next to another boy with a shock of bleach blond hair.

****

The boy with the curly hair is elbow-deep in a cabinet full of different brightly-colored paints while the blond taps his foot impatiently, and Louis realizes with a small gasp that the curly-haired boy is Harry. A bit ironic, Louis thinks. Harry with the mess of curly hair.

****

The thing about Harry, though, is that he's stupidly pretty.

****

Green eyes, big, red lips, and a deep dimple in one cheek make Harry's face. Louis always thought he himself was very handsome, but he feels like he'd look like a butter face standing next to Harry.

****

Harry is gloriously tall, too, with milky skin and long limbs, and Louis laughs to himself. Of course he'd end up getting taken by a six foot giant when he himself stands only five centimeters tall at the moment.

****

He has to admit, though, if he had to get taken by a stranger today, he's quite pleased that he ended up with Harry.

****

"Have you got everything?" Louis jumps when Niall speaks. He and Harry are walking back to the table, this time with a menagerie of paints in different shades of red in both of their arms. Louis quickly ducks back into Harry's bag.

****

"I think so, yeah," Harry says. The bag lifts up and Louis topples over inside with a squeak, trying not to brain himself on the book he lands next to. "To the stage, shall we?"

 

Niall makes a sound of agreement and the bag swings again as Harry hefts it onto his shoulder.

****

"Do I really have to be naked, though?"

****

"Yes, Niall," Harry sighs in annoyance, but the sound is fond. "The assignment is a nude painting done with different hues of one single primary color. I already explained this to you."

****

"'S'just weird," Niall grumbles. "There's like, other people here."

****

Harry laughs and Louis thinks it's the best laugh he's ever heard - loud and cackled and unashamed. "It's not like they haven't seen it all before, mate. And if you're worried about Perrie and Aiden seeing your dick, don't be."

****

Niall makes a displeased sound, but doesn't protest again.

****

"Go behind the screen and strip, then, yeah?" Harry says, tossing his bag to the floor. Louis grumbles. He's getting quite tired of being tossed around in this bloody bag. "There's a robe back there if you want it."

****

"Ha ha," Niall sounds like he's rolling his eyes. "Give me five minutes."

****

Harry doesn't say anything but Louis hears Niall shuffle away and figures Harry nodded or ushered him off, or something. Louis hears Harry puttering around, probably setting up his easel and getting the paints where he needs them.

****

Louis yelps in surprise when Harry's long hand reaches into the bag, fishing around for something. "Brushes, where are my brushes?" Harry mumbles to himself and Louis quickly grabs the pack of brushes he sees - surprisingly light - and shoves them into Harry's exploring hand. "Aha!" Harry exclaims and Louis chuckles.

****

"Ready yet?" Harry calls and Niall yells back that yes, he is. "Get out here, then!"

****

"Shut up, man," Niall mutters, more than likely stepping out from behind the screen. Harry gives a low whistle. "Fuck off," Niall snaps.

****

Harry honest to God giggles. "Just get into position, okay?"

****

"Yeah, yeah," Niall says and then the both of them go quiet, Niall taking position and Harry getting to work.

****

Louis chances peaking out of Harry's bag, relieved to find that Harry's much to absorbed in his work to pay attention to his bag, and Niall's looking the complete opposite direction of Louis, holding his pose like it's his job. Louis knows neither of them are going to be paying the bag on the floor any mind any time soon, so he finds a comfortable position, laying back against the leather of the bag, and watches Harry paint.

****

x

****

Harry calls time about an hour an a half later, and Louis' amazed. The previously-blank canvas is now alive with the half-finished painting of Niall, colored with different hues of a brilliant red.

****

"Thank God," Niall says, releasing his pose. "My legs were cramping like hell."

****

"That's your own fault," Harry snorts. "I told you to tell me if you needed a break."

****

"Wanted to just get it over with as quick as possible," Niall says, grabbing the robe from the chair he'd thrown it over, pulling it on and cinching it at the waist. "You want to go grab lunch when you're done?"

****

"Definitely," Harry replies, reaching a hand down to grab his bag. Louis scrambles back inside, tucking himself into a pocket he'd discovered while Harry'd been painting that was stuffed full of unused tissues, and made for quite the nice buffer for when Harry was a bit rough with handling the bag. "I'm starving."

****

"You're telling me," Niall deadpans. There's sounds of shuffling that Louis takes as Niall hurrying to get his clothes back on. "I could really go for Nando's right now."

****

"The nearest Nando's is an hour away," Harry laughs. "We'll stop at a cafe."

****

"Whatever," Niall says. "You're still paying."

****

"I always do," Harry intones. "You done yet?"

****

"Yeah, yeah, let me get my damn shoes on!"

****

"Did you really have to wear those Supras? They take ten minutes just to get on with all of those fucking Velcro straps."

****

"Quiet, Styles," Niall barks and Louis perks up in the pocket because now he has a last name to go with the first. Harry Styles. Quite pretentious if Louis says so himself. Pretentious, but fitting. Very fitting.

****

"Don't get all pissy now because I'm right," Harry singsongs. "Ah, finally!"

 

"I want food," is all Niall says in return.

****

"Yeah, I heard you the first time, Ni," Harry chuckles. "I'm feeling ham and cheese toasties. You want?"

****

"Definitely," Niall agrees, sounding much to enthusiastic for a simple ham and cheese toastie.

****

Louis' own stomach growls, protesting the fact that he hasn't eaten for a solid eight hours.

****

"The cafe down the street has good ones, we'll go there," Harry says.

****

"Lead the way then, mate," Niall makes a sound of anticipation, and Louis gets the strange idea that he's hopping around, probably foot to foot like an excited child.

 

Louis sighs, curling up in his pocket and getting comfortable. He's going to be in there for a while, no doubt.

****

x

****

While waiting for Harry and Niall to finish their lunch at the cafe, Louis takes the liberty to crawl out of the pocket and go exploring in Harry's bag. He doesn't find much more than books and charcoal pencils and that stupid chipped teacup that got him into this situation in the first place, but he does find a watch that tells him it's just before half noon.

****

Louis takes the watch and crawls back into his pocket, laying back against the tissues. He eavesdrops on Harry and Niall's conversation purely for entertainment, and he finds out a few things in the process: first, Niall has quite the sailor's mouth on him, much worse than Louis' ever heard from anyone else before. Second, Harry thinks the ham and cheese toasties at this cafe are "fucking orgasmic, Niall, I'm telling you.” And third - and most important, probably - Harry is nineteen and lives in a tiny flat a few blocks away from the Uni, which means that Louis is not far away from his own home at all.

****

That makes him feel much better about his current situation, knowing that when (he ignores the blaring 'if' that the paranoid, illogical part of his brain screams at him) he turns back to normal, he'll be able to waltz right out of Harry's flat and back home without the trouble of having to figure out where the hell he is, first.

****

Blessedly, Niall and Harry are ready to leave the cafe within a half hour of getting there. Niall asks Harry if he's going to 'the party tonight,' but - Louis' thanking his lucky stars - Harry declines, saying he's got a paper to finish for Art Theory that's due tomorrow, so he'll be staying in all night.

Harry hugs Niall outside of the cafe and tells him "Same time tomorrow, yeah?" before they part ways. He hefts his bag higher onto his shoulder and Louis really wishes he'd stop doing that.

 

Harry whistles to himself as he walks, some mindless tune that Louis thinks Harry's just making up as he goes along. It's quite endearing, actually.

****

Harry stops walking ten minutes or so later, and Louis hears a tiny bell ring that Louis knows means Harry's just entered what's probably his building. Louis breathes a sigh of relief, happy to know that he can finally get out of this damn bag. He knows he'll have to be sneaky as not to be caught, but it'll be well worth it when he can get out of all the stuffy leather. He's never been one for tight spaces.

****

Louis hears the telltale ding of a lift opening and he still gets that weird flipping feeling in his stomach when the lift dips and starts to go up. Harry's humming to himself again.

****

The lift ride is short and so is the walk to Harry's door. Harry's keys jingle as he works them in the lock, the door of his flat creaking loud as he opens it. Louis' hit with the overwhelming stench of paints and primers, wonders if Harry's been trying to renovate or if he's one of those art students who paints their walls because they're just that artsy and physically cannot keep paint only on canvases.

****

Louis screeches when the bag suddenly slams down onto something, growling to himself. Not even a full day of being small and he's already so-fucking-over being tossed around like this. Not that Harry knows he's even inside the bag, but still.

****

Louis gives quick thanks to Harry's whistling habit because it lets him know when Harry leaves the area, giving Louis the chance to get out of the bag and scope out his surroundings.

 

The flat is exactly what he expected for a starving artist in Uni - small, covered in half-painted canvases  empty teacups littering the beaten-down coffee table, which is what Harry had unsurreptiously tossed his bag onto when he walked in. There's a small sofa and an even smaller telly that Louis gawps at because he's pretty sure those are rabbit ears sitting atop it.

****

There's a large bay window on the left side of the sitting room that Louis guesses is the reason Harry got this flat, and a small hallway that probably leads to the rest of the flat. On the right side there's a large, mahogany bookcase that Louis knows had to have been a gift or an heirloom or something, because it looks much, much too expensive for Harry to have bought himself, out of place in the dingy little flat.

****

Set on the bookcase is a vast collection of teacups and coffee mugs and such and Louis gives a hysterical giggle because Harry really does collect broken teacups.

 

Louis takes a moment to stretch, working out the kinks in his tiny body. He can still hear Harry whistling, a safe distance away.

****

Looking around, Louis' first thought is to find a place to hide, for now. He can figure more things out when Harry is otherwise preoccupied, perhaps with that paper or one of those half-painted canvases lining the floors and walls. Grumbling when he doesn't see any nooks or crannies that would be satisfactory for hiding in, Louis plops down onto the table in defeat.

 

Louis only gets to wallow in self-pity for a moment, however, because Harry's whistling gets louder, giving Louis barely five seconds before Harry is waltzing back into the room and Louis' ducking for cover again in Harry's wretched leather bag.

****

Louis groans when he knocks his head on the side of the teacup, rubbing over the spot on his forehead that he's sure is going to bruise. Fuck that stupid teacup, he thinks. Hasn't done anything but make his life worse since the day started.

****

Louis can hear Harry puttering around, porcelain teacups clinking together as Harry rearranges them on his bookcase to make room for one more, and that's when it occurs to him - he can use the teacup!

****

He scrambles inside the teacup with a cheery little giggle, waiting patiently for Harry to grab it and set it among his dozens of others. Harry's hand dives into the bag only moments later, closing over the top and again hiding Louis from view.

****

Harry sets the teacup with the others on the bookshelf, straightening it out to his liking. Harry steps back to look and, after deciding that everything is up to par, turns on his heel and walks out of the sitting room, back down the narrow hallway he came from.

****

Louis stays cowered in his teacup until he hears a door shut and a lock click, waiting a few minutes for good measure before he determines that it's safe enough for him to get out. He crawls over the side of the cup cautiously, feeling with his toes for something solid to plant his feet on before he drops himself down.

****

Louis sits down after getting out of the cup, the height of shelf he's on making him feel a little woozy.

****

After the nausea dissipates Louis looks around him, trying to find a way to get down from the huge bookcase and safely onto the floor. He has no issue with living in teacups until he's big again, but he'd much rather live in one that didn't harbor the threat of him falling to his death if he needed to get down to find something to eat or drink.

 

He finds his solution in a series of ruts on the inside of the bookcase for changing shelf placement that look just big enough for him to fit in hands and feet inside, like he's climbing on a rock wall or summat.

****

Louis scampers over to the ruts, eyeing them speculatively  He was right that they're big enough, but he can't shake the feeling in his gut that comes with the thought of losing his grip and falling. _I have to, though,_ he tells himself. _Or I'm going to starve to death._

****

Breathing deep, Louis tucks his hand into one of the ruts and his foot into another, testing his grip. They seem like they'd hold him, but he still faces the problem of having to get around the shelf to get to the ruts he needs to. He figures he could hold himself over the edge and get a hold on a rut before he lets go, but it's risky and he really, really doesn't want to fall to his death.

****

"You can do this, Lou, it'll be easy," he says aloud, trying to pump himself up and talk away his nerves. Again, Louis breathes deep, lying down on his stomach and scooting to the edge of the shelf.

****

He's hanging off the edge of the shelf by his arms when he hears a door open.

****

Louis starts to panic, knowing he's screwed. There's no way for him to hide - he doesn't have the strength to pull himself back up onto the shelf to hide in the teacup, and he can't drop down to the bottom shelf because he knows he's bound to land wrong and break something.

****

So he just hangs there, praying that Harry will be oblivious enough to not notice he's there.

****

It doesn't work. Harry notices.

****

He's picking up his bag from the coffee table when he sees Louis, stops half bent over, eyebrows furrowing and casting dark shadows over his green eyes. "What the -?" he mumbles to himself, creeping slowly closer to where Louis is hanging like he thinks if he moves to fast, Louis will just magically disappear.

****

By the time Harry has bent down so he's eye-level with where Louis' hanging. Louis can feel Harry's breath all over his back. Harry breathes out relatively hard and it kicks up a small cloud of the layer of dust coating the bookcase's shelves, and Louis' nose tingles. No, no, shit -!

****

Louis sneezes.

****

Harry flies back with a cry of "Holy shit!" and tumbling down onto his bum. Louis tenses, sneezing again.

****

There's a tense minute of silence where neither Louis nor Harry dares to make a move. Louis fully planned to stay hanging until Harry came to the conclusion that he was hallucinating and really needed to go get some coffee or something from the kitchen to clear his mind. That's when Louis would pull himself back up onto the shelf and hide back in his teacup like his tiny life depended on it.

****

However, Louis' plan backfires when he realizes he's losing his grip on the edge of the shelf and losing it fast.

****

"Um, help me, please?" Louis calls out to Harry, his fear of falling making him desperate. He prays Harry can hear him. "Please, I'm going to fall."

****

"Uh - um - shit, yeah," Harry scrambles to his feet, quickly but cautiously approaching where Louis' hanging on the bookcase. "You can, um - my hands are cupped, you can, um, you can let go?"

****

Louis breathes a sigh of relief for his straining grip and lets go, falling for a fraction of a second before he's caught in Harry's hands. "Thank you," he says.

****

Harry doesn't respond, so Louis turns in his palms, nervously scratching the back of his head when he sees the way Harry's staring at him like he's caught between screaming and throwing Louis out of his hands or pulling him closer to his face for further inspection. Louis' praying for the latter.

****

When Harry finally makes a move, it's to open his mouth to say: "What in the fuck are you?"

****

"I'm not a pixie, if that's what you’re thinking," Louis sniffs. "I haven't come to bring you magic dust and wishes, so sorry."

****

"How - how did you get into my flat?" Harry asks, still hesitant but not hostile.

****

"You know that teacup you got from Liam this morning at the cafe?" Louis asks and Harry nods.

****

"Yeah, well, I was in that teacup. And then that teacup was in your bag and then in your flat, then on this bookcase. So now here I am."

****

"But - but you're tiny," Harry says and Louis rolls his eyes. Obviously.

 

"I've noticed, but thank you for pointing it out," Louis snorts. "Don't really know why, though."

****

"What do you mean, you don't know why?"

****

"Just like I said, I don't know why," Louis says. "I was working my shift at the cafe and I got really woozy, and I passed out. When I woke up, I was small."

****

Harry just looks at him like he's absolutely insane for a moment or two, and then he starts laughing. Big, loud cackles that make him toss his head back and make these tiny little snorting noises. Louis crosses his arms over his chest.

****

When Harry's guffaws have quieted to small giggles, he focuses back on Louis. "Have you quite finished?" Louis asks, annoyance lacing his voice like venom.

****

"Yeah, 'm good," Harry says, giggling again. "You're - you're not really serious with that story, are you? Because that's impossible."

****

"Really?" Louis snips. "You're talking to somebody who's only five centimeters tall right now while he's standing in your palm. I'd think your interpretation of 'impossible' has just become quite loose."

****

"It doesn't make any sense, though," Harry argues.

****

"Again, five centimeters tall. In your palm."

****

"Sorry."

****

"Yeah."

****

"So," Harry starts again, scratching at his curls with his free hand. "I'm, uh, I'm Harry."

****

"Louis," Louis says and offers Harry a tiny hand.

****

Harry automatically reaches to take Louis' hand with his, but pauses when he realizes. "Um, can I even shake your hand?"

****

"Just give me a finger," Louis commands. Harry offers him his index, and Louis grabs it and gives a firm shake. "Lovely to properly meet you."

****

"Yeah, lovely," Harry agrees.

****

Harry purses his lips, looking around his tiny flat before settling his eyes on Louis again. "So, um, are you hungry?"

****

Louis laughs, hearty and easy, and Harry smiles, full on and beaming.

****

"Yeah, I'm starved."

****

x

****

Harry cooks spaghetti bolognaise in his teeny tiny kitchen, Louis sitting atop the counter, watching as Harry puts around. They make small talk about Harry's classes at Uni and Louis' job at the cafe (which Louis is probably going to lose because he can't think of an excuse that will work for an indefinite amount of time). Harry tells Louis about his older sister Gemma and his mum back in Holmes Chapel. Louis tells Harry about his own four sisters and how he's lived in Doncaster his whole life. They click instantly, really, becoming fast friends in the short time it takes to cook the pasta.

****

Harry picks Louis up and brings him over to the kitchen table, setting him down atop it. Harry turns off the stove and plates the food, cutting up the pasta into tiny pieces for Louis without even having to ask.

****

Harry sets the single plate on the kitchen table before sliding into the solo chair, nudging the plate towards Louis. "Just eat with your hands, I guess. I don't really have any appropriate silverware at the moment."

****

"'S'fine," Louis says. "Better not burn me, though."

****

"It won't, promise." Harry smiles, picking up his own fork and scooping up a wad of the pasta, shoving it right into his mouth to prove his point.

****

"Alright, Styles, I trust you," Louis says without thinking, digging in with both hands.

****

"You know my last name?" Harry says and Louis pauses, mouth stuffed full of noodles.

****

"I sort of eavesdropped on your conversation with your friend Niall today," Louis says once his mouth isn't so full. "Sorry."

****

"I don't mind," Harry says. "I would've eavesdropped, too."

****

Louis just nods and smiles, going back to the food.

****

"Can I know yours, too, at least?" Harry asks and Louis furrows his brow. "Your last name."

****

Louis swallows. "Tomlinson," Louis says. "Louis Tomlinson."

****

"It fits you," Harry says, setting his fork down.

****

"Not hungry?" Louis muses.

****

"Nah, still full from lunch at the cafe," Harry says. "I just felt weird cooking for somebody so, uh, small, I guess? So I made a full plate and figured I should probably eat some of it too so it doesn't all go to waste."

****

"Sorry," Louis apologizes, feeling suddenly sheepish.

****

"'S'alright," Harry murmurs.

****

They fall into silence while Louis eats until he's fully, barely making a dent in the mound of pasta. Harry watches him with gentle eyes and a quirk of his lips.

****

"Done?" he asks when Louis flops down onto his back, rubbing at his full stomach. He hasn't eaten anything like the bolognaise in a long while, stuck with a diet of microwave soups, pot noodles, and cereal due to his utter lack of cooking ability.

****

"Definitely," Louis sighs, feeling like he's going to burst. "I'm stuffed to my limit, mate."

****

"I can carry you to the sitting room and put in a movie for you while I work on my Art Theory paper, if you want," Harry offers, flushing a bit like he's embarrassed, worried that Louis will think his suggestion is weird.

****

"Sure," Louis agrees. "Carry me, my servant!"

****

Harry snorts, scooping Louis up into his giant hands. The walk from the kitchen to the sitting room is short, just down the narrow hallway that separates Harry's flat into halves.

****

Harry sets Louis down onto the sofa and Louis plops down, trying to make himself comfortable. He's teetering on the edge of falling into the cracks between the cushions and being in the perfect spot, so he asks Harry if he can shove a pillow in between the cushions as a barrier to keep him from falling in and Harry does it, giving Louis a dopey smile and a thumbs up after.

****

"So what's my showing tonight, young Hazza?" Louis asks. Harry quirks a brow at 'Hazza' but otherwise doesn't comment.

****

" _Love Actually_ ," he says. Louis snorts.

****

"You're kidding, right?"

****

"Quiet, you. It's a lovely movie."

****

"It's a snore."

****

"Don't you dare snub _Love Actually_ in my home, Louis Tomlinson! I'll toss you into the rubbish bin, I swear it!"

****

"How rude," Louis huffs. "Threatening me for having an opinion."

****

"Your opinion is stupid," Harry says.

****

Louis rolls his eyes, unable to stop the grin tugging at his lips. "Just put the movie in, Styles."

****

"Yes, sir," Harry salutes him with two fingers, dropping down in front of the entertainment center, fishing through the five or so DVDs for the one he wants, popping it in before changing the channel on the telly to the right one. He grabs the DVD player remote and sets it on the sofa next to Louis. "You can figure out a way to work this, can't you?"

****

"I'm small, not incompetent," Louis mutters.

****

"Just making sure," Harry says. He runs a hand through his messy curls. "I'm gonna go work on my paper, now. I'll probably be done by dinner and out for piss breaks if you need anything."

****

"I think I'm all set, dear Harold," Louis says. He waves his hand in a flurry at Harry. "Go work on your paper."

****

Harry leans down at pats Louis on the top of the head with a finger, ignoring Louis' squawk of protest. "I expect a full report on the greatness of _> Love Actually_ when I'm finished."

 

"Don't get your hopes up," Louis snorts, swatting at Harry's finger.

****

"My hopes are actually quite low, I'll have you know," Harry counters. "I don't have to hope that you'll be so moved by Hugh Grant's spectacular acting that you'll be begging for me to have hours worth of in-depth discussion with you about it's brilliance."

****

"You're mad," Louis says. "You're absolutely off your rocker."

****

"I beg to differ," Harry protests.

****

"Again, Hazza," Louis rolls his eyes. "Absolutely mad. Now go write your bloody paper before it's too late and then you're coming to me bawling about how you're going to flunk Art Theory because you were too busy trying to convince me of the mastery of a movie that I think it frankly shite."

****

"You're a terrible person," Harry grumbles but turns on his heel and out of the sitting room nonetheless.

****

Louis presses the play button on the remote with his foot when it calls for and settles in, feeling very pleased with himself that being small has done nothing to change his fantastic ability to win everything.

****

x

****

Louis doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he does know that whatever is waking him up at the moment isn't very pleasant, feels like sandpaper, and smells suspiciously like day-old tuna.

 

Louis groans, swatting at whatever's rubbing at his hip with a tiny hand, landing a good smack on whatever it is, noticing that it feels somewhat furry.

****

It meows.

****

Louis' eyes snap open and he's suddenly face to face with a very large, very mean looking cat. A cat that looks like it thinks Louis is going to make a wonderful meal, licking it's chops and flashing teeth that Louis knows would have no problem grabbing and ripping and tearing him to pieces if it came down to it.

****

The cat meows again and Louis flinches, trying to decide whether he should play dead or make a run for it.

****

Louis' just about to flop down on the couch cushion and act like he's had a sudden, massive aneurysm when the cat is suddenly scooped up and the threat to Louis' life is gone. Louis looks up to see Harry standing with the cat in his arms, pointing a long finger at the cat's nose and scolding it like it'd done something wrong.

****

Louis figures the cat deserves it, though, seeing as it was about two minutes from eating Louis for an early dinner.

****

Harry sets the cat on the ground and it scurries away down the hall. "You okay, Lou? Dusty didn't take an arm or a leg, or anything?"

****

Louis scoffs. "No, but the damn thing definitely planned on it," Louis crosses his arms, putting on his best you-almost-got-me-killed-why-didn't-you-tell-me-you-had-a-man-eating-cat face.

 

"Sorry," Harry apologizes sheepishly. "I didn't think he'd try to eat you, honest."

****

"Isn't that reassuring," Louis grumbles. Harry sighs and the couch sinks dangerously as Harry sits down. Louis squawks as he's knocked over.

****

Harry scoops Louis up and sets him on his thigh with a laugh. "Sorry again."

****

"It's okay, I suppose," Louis murmurs, settling against Harry until he's comfortable. "Did you finish your paper?"

****

"Mhm," Harry hums, fidgeting a bit. "Finish the movie?"

****

The movie credits are rolling on the screen so Louis figures he can say yes, but goes with an honest, "No, fell asleep somewhere in the middle," instead.

****

"Can't believe you," Harry makes a completely over-exaggerated, scandalized expression.

****

"Believe it, Curly," Louis says, patting Harry's thigh.  

****

"Curly," Harry hums, like he's contemplating. "I like it."

****

"It just suits you for some reason," Louis says. "Can't really figure out why, though."

****

Harry giggles, leaning back against the arm of the sofa. "You're really cute, y'know?"

****

Louis arches an eyebrow, and he totally doesn't flush all the way to his toes. "Yeah?"

****

"Yeah," Harry agrees. "You're tiny and sassy and you've got this lovely squeaky voice."

 

Louis gasps, clutching at his chest and pretending to be extremely appalled. "I am not squeaky!"

 

Harry rolls his eyes, grinning slyly. "Sorry to break it to you, Lou, but yeah, you are. Probably don't sound squeaky to yourself, but you totally are."

****

"Shuddup," Louis mumbles. "'M not squeaky."

 

"Hey, hey," Harry tuts, scooping Louis up to hold him close to his face. Louis swats at the end of Harry's nose. "Heeeeeeeyyy," Harry frowns. "Be nice."

****

"You be nice," Louis says, striking outwards again, but Harry gets smart and moves his hand from his face to keep Louis at bay. "Say I'm not squeaky."

****

"Never."

****

"Say it!"

****

"Never!"

****

_"Say it!"_

****

_"Never!"_

****

Louis is openly flailing at Harry now, scratching and biting at Harry's hand. Harry's making these weirdly adorable wheezy laughing sounds, and Louis' enchanted. "You're stupid," Louis mumbles.

****

"You be nice now, or I'll get Dusty back in here," Harry threatens.

****

"Now that's just plain mean."

****

Harry makes another one of those wheezy laugh sounds and Louis sighs, sitting down Indian-style in Harry's palm. He yawns. "'M'tired."

****

"You want to go take a nap? You can have my bed?" Harry offers.

****

"Yes please," Louis jumps at the opportunity. "My last two attempts at sleeping were in a muffin and a teacup. I need some comfort."

****

"You slept in a muffin?" Harry asks, eyebrows all the way up into the curls draped over his forehead.

****

"Yeah, a banana one," Louis says.

****

"That's awesome."

****

"Wasn't really as great as you'd think," Louis shrugs. "Kinda lumpy, actually."

****

"Ew, lumpy," Harry grimaces. Louis squeaks as Harry closes his hand into a fist, trapped Louis inside. Harry rises up off the couch, stretching with his arms above his head. Louis' head spins; he feels a bit woozy. "Oops, sorry," Harry says when he brings his arms down and Louis wonders if his face has turned green.

****

"Just take me to your bed," Louis sighs, resting his upper half against the side of Harry's abnormally long index finger. "I'm knackered."

****

"'Course," Harry murmurs, tucking Louis to his chest like he's afraid he'll knock into a wall and Louis will get hurt if he doesn't hold him close.

****

Louis feels an odd fondness for this dopey, curly-haired boy, despite only knowing him for less than a day. He feels like he's known Harry his whole life, feels like he's known those dimples and that slow voice and those long, gangly, uncoordinated limbs since he was old enough to remember. It's weird - Louis doesn't even feel like this with Stan, and Stan has been his best mate since preschool.

****

He thinks it might have to do with the way Harry's not treating him like he's some fifteen centimeter tall boy he found hanging off his bookcase in the middle of the afternoon (even though that's exactly what he is). Harry was treating him like he was just another mate and Louis knew he needed that. He really didn't know what he'd do if Harry had totally freaked the fuck out and left him hanging - in the actual, literal sense.

****

Louis bets he might have actually had a breakdown, not even kidding.

****

He wouldn't have known what to do with himself; he might have begged Harry to take him home to his own flat, but he knew that if he was on his own being as small as he was, there was no way he'd make it. He's grateful in a way he didn't think he could ever be to a stupid, chipped teacup because it brought him to Harry, brought him a way to live with some semblance of normality until he was big again.

 

"You're awful quiet," Harry says, peering down at Louis in his fist.

****

"Thinking," Louis offers.

****

"Bout what?" Harry asks, reaching out with his free hand and turning the knob on the door that Louis feels it's safe to assume is Harry's bedroom.

****

"About you," Louis states. Harry quirks an eyebrow.

****

"Me?"

****

"Yeah," Louis murmurs, feeling much sleepier than he'd previously been, basked in the soft, dull ambiance of Harry's room. Harry has black curtains slider blinds on his windows and it's nice, the way the room is bathed in a comfortable darkness even though it's still bright daylight outside.

****

"Nice thoughts, I hope?" Harry asks, voice soft and minutely prodding.

****

"Mhm," Louis nods. "Just thinking about how I should thank you for being so cool about this," he confesses. Harry's walked him over to the edge of the bed and he's rearranging the pillows to make a tiny, Louis-sized crook. "You could have freaked out and like, chucked me out a window, but you didn't."

****

Harry laughs, shaking his head as he sets Louis into the crook. Louis sighs with content, burrowing deeper. "I would never chuck you out a window. Promise."

****

"Promise?" Louis asks, yawning again.

****

"Yeah, promise," Harry murmurs, grabbing the duvet and yanking it up high enough that it settles over the pillows and covers Louis in his crook. Harry pats the duvet down to make sure it sits right before turning on his heel and making his way out of the bedroom.

****

Louis stretches and curls in on himself, sleep creeping up on him much quicker than he expected it to. "Harry?"

****

Harry stops and looks over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

****

"Say 'm not squeaky."

****

Harry laughs a loud, obnoxious cackle. "Go to sleep, Louis. I'll wake you up for supper if you're not up by then."

****

"'M not," Louis mumbles. Sleep always makes him more argumentative than he usually is. And stupid. Argumentative and stupid.

****

"Sure, sure," Harry murmurs. He opens the door, standing against the frame for a moment before leaving Louis to his nap.

****

x

****

Days go by and Louis slowly becomes more and more accepting of the fact that he may be staying small for a lot longer that he'd initially expected. Harry had even gone out to the nearest ASDA and bought Louis a bunch of doll clothes that he figured would fit, little t-shirts and brightly-colored shorts with Velcro in the back to hold them on. They're not as uncomfortable as Louis had originally thought doll clothes would be, and he's grateful that he doesn't have to spend the rest of his small life in the outfit he'd gone to work in.

****

He figures he'd been a lot more panicky and a lot more pissed off about his situation if he hadn't found a home with Harry and all of Harry's quirky little things.

****

He'd asked Harry about the teacups on the third day he'd been there, curiously intrigued. Harry had just shrugged, told him that he liked to collect things that people didn't want anymore and give them more time. Louis had snorted.

****

But the thing with Harry is that he really does do that, loves to gives old things new meaning. Like the coffee table with the wobbly leg that he got from his neighbor with the four kids or the armchair in his bedroom with the hole in the back that he'd found Dusty in one day while he'd been walking to class. He'd decided right away that he was going to take Dusty home and then decided again in the same thought that he'd take the armchair too, because it really was still in good shape despite the hole, and since Dusty already had bonded with the chair, maybe it'd make the tiny kitten more apt to bond with Harry, too.

****

And then the teacups - the teacups are what Harry really loves the most. He gets them from his friends and his favorite cafes when they've lived out their life, died with a chip or a crack or a break. Harry will take them, then; take them home and wash them up and put them on his shelf. He says they make him wonder, make him think about who used that teacup and what they were thinking about when they used it, if they were alone or with somebody they love, if their day was happy or if it had been melancholy and they were trying to find a way to cheer themselves up.

 

"I'm not just collecting old, broken things, Lou," Harry had said. "I'm collecting the memories."

****

Harry is probably the most unique person Louis has ever met - the kind of person who takes summer art classes because he loves it that much, who gives broken things new meaning because he can't stand to see them go to waste. Louis feels extremely fortuitous that Harry'd been the one to find him in the teacup because really, Louis couldn't have lucked out any better.

 

Louis' also lucked out with the way that Dusty's finally seemed to accept him as company now rather than a food source, and it's benefited Louis not only with the fact that he's able to move through the flat without the fear of becoming prey, but he's now found a much more efficient mode of transportation around place to place that his own tiny legs. Dusty makes a very able horse and his long hair makes for well enough reigns that Louis isn't constantly worried that he's going to fall off.

****

The first couple nights that Louis was with Harry, he'd proffered to sleep up on the bookcase in a sugar bowl that Harry stuffed full of washcloths. It'd been comfortable enough, but Louis couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to go to get up in the morning and forget that he was three shelves up, and he really wasn't too fond of accidentally falling to his imminent death.

****

So, after voicing his worries to Harry and Harry's suggestion for him to do so, Louis had taken to sleeping in Harry's bed, curled up in Harry's hair because he was secretly a lot scared that he was going to get lost in the huge, fluffy duvet like he had during that first nap on the first day and never be able to find his way out. Harry was kind enough to oblige, never minding the way Louis would fidget and toss and turn at night, and if Louis ever pulled his hair too hard, Harry never mentioned it.

****

Harry still had to leave every day for his Uni classes, leaving Louis alone with his own devices. He always left some food in an easy to open container on the Lazy Susan in the kitchen because that's the only thing Louis can reach on his own, and Dusty had no peeves if Louis stole some water out of his bowl. One day, though, when Louis'd been with Harry for nearly a month and there was still no sign of Louis getting big, Harry'd tucked Louis up in the pocket of his jumper and taken him to class with him, letting Louis sit on his shoulder while he worked, tucked up in the far corner of the classroom so there was no fear of Louis being discovered by someone else.

****

Louis loves that, loves when Harry takes him to class and he gets to sit and watch Harry do what he does best. He loves watching the drag of a paintbrush on canvas, loves watching the way Harry's fingers work over sculpting clay. But, most of all, he loves the way Harry's fingers look when he's drawing with charcoal, covered in black blotches from smudging and smoothing and contouring.

 

(It might have something to do with the fact that the charcoal still stains Harry's fingers long after he's done working, and Louis gets to help Harry wash it off at home, curling himself around Harry's long fingers as he scrubs with both hands, but then again, it might not.)

****

x

****

Harry brings Louis home a present on the day that marks exactly two months that Louis' been living with him. He clatters into the kitchen, calling Louis' name and making all sorts of ruckus, and Louis has to go check it out, whistling for Dusty as climbing onto his back, holding on to tufts of fur as Dusty saunters into the kitchen.

****

Harry is standing with bright eyes and an even brighter grin when Louis gets into the kitchen. He scoops Louis off of Dusty's back and holds him in his palm, urging Louis to turn around and saying, with a childish eagerness that Louis thinks is nothing but preposterously endearing,

****

"Look, Lou! Look what I got you!"

****

Sitting on the kitchen table is a huge blue and white doll house, three floors high with a wide, spiral staircase up the center. Louis gapes.

****

"I've got all of the furniture and everything out in the car still because I wasn't sure if you'd want them," Harry says, still buzzing with adolescent excitement. "But I still figured you'd like your own space, you know? Somewhere where everything isn't so high above you and you can feel like, normal again? I mean if you don't like it I can always take it back. I kept the receipt and everything -"

****

"Harry, shut up," Louis says, pinching the skin of Harry's palm. "It's - it's really nice, Harry, thank you. Can I - will you put me inside?"

****

Harry nods, excited as ever, and pushes his hand forward so that Louis can step off onto the second floor of the house. It's weirdly surreal, being inside, because while the walls and the rooms seem to be exactly the right size, Louis can still see out into Harry's house, see the towering walls and mountainous counters of his reality. It's like vertigo.

****

"So," Harry starts, "Do you like it?"

****

"I do, Harry, I like it," Louis says because yeah, he really likes it, likes that he has his own little home inside home, somewhere he can go that doesn't make him feel so monumentally overwhelmed, somewhere he can go where he doesn't need to ride a cat just to get around or ask for Harry's help if there's something up high that he needs to grab. "Will you go get the furniture?"

****

Harry nods, curls bouncing all over as he turns and bounds back out the way he came, running back in a barely half a minute later with a canvas bag in his hand. He sets the bag down on the kitchen table, dumping out it's contents over the tabletop.

****

There's chairs and tables and rugs, tiny sinks and a toilet, even. There's beds and couches and lamps, an entertainment set for the plastic telly.

****

"You didn't have to get all of this, Haz," Louis says, lightly scolding.

****

"I didn't buy it, I promise," Harry says, grabbing one of the tables and setting it down in one of the rooms. "It's all Gem's old stuff. Called Mum up yesterday and asked if she still had it. Told her Niall wanted to gift it to his little cousin for her birthday."

****

"All of that trouble just to bring me my own little house?" Louis asks, fighting the smile that twitches at the corners of his lips.

****

Harry shrugs. "I mean, you haven't asked me to take you back to your flat to get some of your things or any of that, but I still figured you'd like to have your own space, y'know? In case you get tired of me sometimes."

****

"I'd think it'd be the other way around," Louis murmurs. "You getting tired of me always needing you for things. Like, I can't even climb up on the toilet to piss by myself."

****

Harry grins. "Remember the first time? How you almost fell in?"

****

"Don't remind me, for the love of God," Louis quips, shutting that one down immediately. "I'm still trying to fight of the post-traumatic stress."

****

"Sorry," Harry apologizes. "But really, I just wanted you to have your own space that's like, your size. Where you don't have to ask me for help with everything." Harry reaches into the pile of furniture, pulling out the bed, and one of the couches. "And the furniture's really nice, actually, wow. Better than what I have."

****

Louis snorts, rolling his eyes. "Take me out now so I can watch you furnish the place and then yell at you for doing it wrong." Harry gives an eye-roll of his own, nonetheless offering his hand for Louis to jump on to before he sets him back down the the table top.

 

Louis watches as Harry carefully selects every piece of furniture out of the pile and sets in into the house, only speaking up every so often to change Harry's placement of something because, surprisingly, Harry is actually quite an avid interior decorator.

****

When all of the tiny furniture is set an arranged inside the house Harry sets Louis back inside to explore. Louis heads off to the bedroom, first, bouncing onto the bed, happy to find that it's actually quite comfortable. The whole house is quite comfortable, really. The only downside is that there's no plumbing or running water, so Louis still has to call on Harry whenever he's thirsty or hungry or has to take a piss.

****

Harry moves the whole house onto the bookcase, setting it on the lowest shelf. This way Louis has access to his house as well as the rest of the flat, and no fears of falling.

 

Harry cooks dinner and he gives Louis his own portion on tiny plastic plates that came along with the tiny china cabinet. There's even a set of tiny plastic silverware that Louis feels ridiculous using because it makes him really feel like he's actually a pixie.

****

Louis still eats with Harry, sitting atop the kitchen table and making small talk, cutting his chunk of Harry's chicken patty into even smaller bits while Harry tries to pretend that it's not the most adorable thing he's ever seen. Louis feels the constant need to remind Harry that, even though he currently stands only as tall as Harry's longest finger, he's actually a good two years older than the lad. Harry just shrugs every time Louis reminds him and then scoops Louis back up in his hands. Louis pretends to be angry with him, but he's never really been that great of an actor, and Harry sees right through him.

****

Harry takes both his and Louis' plates when they're done eating, wiping Louis' off with a napkin and tossing his own in the sink. He scoops Louis up and lets him perch on his shoulder as he makes his way back to the sitting room, grabbing the remote to the telly and flicking it on before settling on the sofa with a plop that sends Louis flying.

****

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," Harry says, trying and failing to hide his giggles as he digs Louis out from in between the sofa cushions. "I really am, Lou, I didn't mean to knock you off."

****

"Shut it, Curly," Louis mutters, crossing his arms over his chest, refusing to turn his head and acknowledge Harry's apologies.

****

"Lou, come on," Harry whines, flopping down on the cushions so his face is right up in Louis' personal space. Louis smacks him on the nose. "Heeeeeeey," Harry whines, lips pouting.

****

"I just almost drowned in a sofa because of you," Louis quips. "I'm very upset at the moment."

 

Harry breathes out, the rush of air rustling Louis' hair. "I'm sorry, really. Don't be mad, please."

****

Louis just huffs, not answering.

****

Harry scoots closer, so close that his nose brushes Louis' leg where he's moved to sit Indian-style.

****

"Forgive me?" Harry pleads, all pouty lips and big, green eyes and Louis sighs because he's a complete and utter pushover.

****

"Fine," Louis mutters and Harry grins wide, so wide.

****

Harry pops back up into an upright position, nestling into the sofa. He holds out a hand to Louis, giving him the option, and Louis shrugs once, throws his dignity down into the dark abyss of in between the sofa cushions, and climbs on. Harry sets Louis on his shoulder and Louis burrows into Harry's curls, swaddling himself in the smell of apples and raspberries, like the shampoo Harry uses.

****

_Twilight_ is playing on the Movie Channel and Harry puts it on, ignoring the tug on his hair Louis gives in protest. ("But Robert Pattinson, Lou, Robert Pattinson!") Louis snorts, rolls his eyes, and says he'd like _Twilight_ so much better if they'd found an actress to play the lead that could actually, well, act.

****

It's almost midnight by the time Harry and Louis get up off the sofa again because the single _Twilight_ turned into _New Moon_ and then _Eclipse_ and _Breaking Dawn: Part One_ , a whole _Twilight Saga_ movie marathon. Louis had been dozing on Harry's shoulder, petering out somewhere during _Breaking Dawn_ , in between Bella's panic attack in the bathroom on her honeymoon and the very first awkward, G-rated sex scene of the movie.

****

Harry wakes Louis up with a gentle poke of his finger at Louis' shoulder, telling him that it's time to go to bed. Louis hums noncommittally against Harry's neck, still mostly asleep when Harry asks him if he's going to sleep in his own bed tonight. Harry must take his hum and a yes, cradling Louis in his palm as he peels back the tiny duvet on Louis' tiny dollhouse bed, tucking Louis like a secret under the covers, head resting on the makeshift cotton ball-wrapped-in-gauze-and-taped-closed pillows that Harry had made for him when he'd decided that the ones the bed had came with were much too sub-par for his liking.

****

Louis wakes up again in the middle of the night - early morning, really, but it's still pitch black in the flat - with a crick in his back and throbbing in his neck. He sits up and throws his legs over the side, feeling with his hands until he makes it to the miniature spiral staircase that will take him downstairs. He whistles for Dusty when he reaches the bottom floor, stepping off the shelf of the bookcase and waiting.

****

Dusty comes galloping around the corner, settling in front of Louis. Louis kisses him on the flank before climbing on top, praising whatever god made it that Dusty seems to know exactly where Louis wants to go exactly when Louis whistles for him to take him there.

****

Harry's bedroom door is open a crack and Dusty slinks inside. Louis tightens his grip in Dusty's fur, and the cat jumps up, landing silently atop Harry's duvet.

****

Louis pats Dusty on the head and slides down, tottering sleepily up to where Harry's head lies on the pillow. His mouth is open and he's got a trickle of drool down his cheek, and Louis makes another check on his list of Things Harry Does that Shouldn't be Cute but are Anyways.

 

Avoiding the drool puddle, Louis curls up close to Harry, wrapping himself in Harry's curls. Harry gives a small grunt and Louis knows he's awake, but barely. "Lou?" Harry mumbles, voice lethargic and slurred.

****

"Couldn't sleep," Louis explains, breathing in the calming scent of Harry's Bed and Harry's Curls and plain old Harry.

****

"Mmm," Harry hums, taking the explanation at face value, and it's barely thirty seconds before he's off and snoring again, a gentle rumbling in his chest that makes the pillows vibrate the tiniest bit.

****

Louis yawns hugely, snuffling against Harry's neck, and the last thought he has before he's out and sleeping soundly is that, compared to his dollhouse bed, he likes sleeping with Harry, bundled up in his curls, much, much better.

****

x

****

Louis basically abandons his own bed for Harry's curls every night after, the extravagant bed having no comparison to the way Harry's curls tickle Louis' skin and the way Harry's snores and cute little nose whistle have become the only thing that can make Louis comfortable enough to sleep.

****

Louis has no problem with that.

****

x

 

"Lou?" Harry calls, walking in the front door of the flat with three paper bags in each arm, back from a shopping trip at Tesco. Harry hadn't had any time to grocery shop until today and the fridge had been completely bare when he left, so he'd had to do some serious grocery overhaul to stock up until the next time he could scrape together enough cash to go out and shop again.

****

Louis perks up from his place on the couch, tapping the pause button on the remote with his foot. He's watching all of Harry's DVR-ed episodes of Keeping Up with the Kardashians and Kim's right in the middle of a breakdown over something or someone, and Louis really doesn't want to miss any bit of it because it's actually the most entertaining thing he's ever seen.

****

"Yeah?" Louis calls. Dusty perks up on the couch next to him.

****

"Do you want me to make you a sandwich, or something?" Harry asks, setting the bags on the kitchen table, pulling out a jar of peanut butter before Louis even answers.

****

"Sure," Louis says. "But come get me so I can watch you. You put so much peanut butter on mine last time that my tongue got stuck to the roof of my mouth."

 

Harry snorts but nonetheless swaggers into the living room, offering his hand; Louis jumps on and Harry takes him back into the kitchen, setting him on the counter top.

****

Harry pulls a spoon out of the silverware drawer (says it's easier to spread the peanut butter with a spoon, but frankly, Louis doesn't see the difference) and uncaps the peanut butter, feeling back the foil cover with deft fingers. He grabs a slice of bread and tears a bit off the side to make Louis' sandwich, leaving the rest for his own.

****

Louis sits cross-legged on the counter top, tapping a steady rhythm with his fingers as he watches Harry work.

****

Harry scoops out a dollop of the peanut butter on the spoon and, right as he goes to spread it on the bigger piece of bread, realization dawns on his face and he swings around to face Louis.

****

"Oh, Lou, I forgot to tell you -"

****

Harry cuts off when Louis lets out a horrified squeak, flying backwards as the whole of the peanut butter that had been on Harry's spoon flies off and hits him square in the face.

****

"Shit, Lou, I'm so sorry!" Harry gasps, dropping the spoon and scrabbling to help Louis back up, wiping with frantic fingers all over Louis' little face, trying to get the peanut butter off of Louis' eyelids and lashes before it can get in his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to!"

 

"I know you didn't, fuck," Louis says and it's a bit strangled. Louis' own hands come up and work with Harry's fingers to try to get the peanut butter off. It's an effort in vain because the peanut butter is all over him, seeping under his clothes and clumping his hair. "Harry, this isn't working!"

****

"We're going to have to give you a bath, or something," Harry says, pulling his fingers away and wiping them off on his sweatpants. "Hold on, lemme see if I have something to use as a tub."

 

Louis snorts, wincing when some of the peanut butter goes up his nose and he has to blow it all back out.

****

"There is a tub in the dollhouse, you know. The one I bathed in last night?" Louis says but Harry just ignores him, continues rifling through the cabinets that are too high for Louis to reach, so he's never seen what is inside them.

****

"Ah!" Harry exclaims, pulling out a small porcelain tub that Louis identifies as a gravy dish. "This will work, yeah?"

****

Louis gives the dish a once-over before deciding that, yes, it will work. He gives Harry a nod and

****

Harry grins, setting the tub on the counter and turning on the faucet.

****

Harry tests the water after a moment or two before sticking the dish under the stream, picking up the dish soap and squirting a bit in as an afterthought. The suds bubble up almost over the edge of the dish by the time it's completely filled.

****

Harry sets the dish back down one the counter top, sticking his finger in to test the depth, deeming it safe enough that Louis isn't going to risk drowning. "Alright, take your clothes off and get in, then."

****

Louis arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his peanut-buttered chest. "Is this your way of subtly trying to perve on me? Have you been planning this?"

****

Harry rolls his eyes. "Just get naked, Louis. I'll go find you something to use as a loofah."

****

Harry scampers off and Louis, for some reason that he can't put a finger on for the life of him, feels a bit jilted.

****

He gets naked slowly, careful not to smear more peanut butter on himself than there already is. It takes him a moment and a small skip and jump to get into the dish, but the moment he's in he melts, soothed by the hot water and the weird oily feel of the dish soap on his skin.

 

Louis' already sunken into the water up to his nose when Harry comes back into the kitchen, a cotton ball held in his fingers. Louis quirk and eyebrow, the only expression he can manage while he's submerged in the water as deep as he is. "This will work, right?" Harry guesses, holding out the cotton ball for Louis to take.

****

The cotton ball does work, after all. Surprisingly well, actually. Louis' able to clean himself up rather quickly, noting with a frown how out of control his facial hair has gotten when he goes to clean off his face.

****

"I need a shave," Louis says, noncommittally.

****

"I'll do it," Harry says. He's leaning against the counter top, watching Louis bathe. Louis feels like he should feel a bit violated or exposed, even, but he doesn't, and he doesn't really think  about why. "Can use my razor."

****

"Can I trust you not to slip and accidentally slit my throat?"

****

Harry frowns, looking a bit like a disgruntled kitten. "Of course you can trust me."

****

"If you kill me I'm going to come back as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your life," Louis threatens, shivering a bit because the water is starting to go cold.

****

"Won't be much of a bother if you're as tiny as a ghost as you are now," Harry snickers, and

 

Louis splashes him. Harry gives an offended " _Heeeeeeey_!" Louis gives him the finger.

****

"Get me a towel, or something," Louis gripes. "I'm cold and going to prune if I stay in here any longer."

****

Harry yanks off a bit of the paper napkins he has on a roll sitting on his counter and hands it to Louis, who grabs it, standing up out of the water, holding the napkin around his waist. "Run and get me clothes while I dry off?" Louis asks, batting his eyes at Harry, laughing at the grin and dorky salute Harry gives him before setting off to the bedroom.

****

Louis' fairly dry and standing with the napkin over his modesty when Harry returns, passing Louis the tiny piles of clothes. Louis motions for Harry to turn around, dropping his napkin-slash-towel and slipping into the pants. He's been going commando a lot, lately because he's only got that one pair of underwear and they're not always clean. He doesn't mind it, actually. The shirts are itchy as hell but the pants are stretchy and nice and Louis likes the way they feel on his naked skin.

****

"Alright, I'm decent," Louis says and Harry turns back around. He offers his hand again, and says with a grin, "Let's go shave now, shall we?"

****

x

****

Shaving doesn't turn out to be as big as a disaster that Louis had feared it would be - he only ends up with shaving cream in his mouth and up his nose, but no razor cuts that would threaten his life.

****

It feels amazing to be freshly-shaven again; makes him feel a bit more like himself as he was when he was still big.

****

He's taken to wondering if he's ever going to be normal sized again, or if he's going to spend the rest of his life five centimeters tall, reliant on other people to do everything for him because he doesn't live in a world that's equipped for somebody of his stature.

****

Louis only wishes he knew how and why he got like this, what he did to deserve it. He doesn't know whether to call it a curse for obvious reasons or a blessing because it's brought him to Harry.

****

Harry, with his dimples and his stupid green eyes and giant hands. Harry who collects broken things like he's his own Island of Misfit Toys, brings them back to life and shows them love, and didn't think twice about taking in a strange, five-centimeter-tall boy he found dangling for his life off his bookcase.

****

Harry is basically become Louis' whole world now - Louis needs him for everything. Louis wishes it weren't the case, wishes he and Harry could have been mates under different circumstances, that he and Harry could go outside the flat for once, maybe go to that cafe Louis works at when Louis' got a day off and do nothing but throw bits of scones at Liam while they stole sips of each other's tea.

****

Louis wishes so much that he could take a second and get into Harry's head, figure out what Harry really thinks of him. He wants to know if he's truly a burden, if Harry wishes that for maybe one whole day, Louis could completely take care of himself without having to ask Harry for help.

 

He wonders if he's being unreasonable, wonders if he's making himself crazy with assumptions that could never be true. Harry seems to love taking care of Louis as much as Louis needs him to, never seems to have any qualms with everything that comes along with living with somebody who’s barely taller that his longest finger.

****

Louis sighs, curling up into a ball where he rests at Dusty's side. Harry's caught up in a book at the other end of the couch, closing it and furrowing his brows when he hears Louis sigh.

****

"Y'alright?" asks Harry, setting his book down on the cushion. He's reading some Anne Rice vampire novel, says it makes him feel culturally pluralistic even though Louis' told him over and over again that Gothica isn't actually it's own culture.

****

Louis takes a breath, letting it all out before he's able to work up the nerve to tell Harry what's on his mind. "D'you....d'you ever get sick of it? Of taking care of me?"

****

Harry makes a short, sharp noise, hauling himself up off the couch. He stand directly in front of Louis, scoops him up in both hands without even asking Louis if it's okay first. Louis squawks, flopping over sideways in Harry's palms. "Harry, what the hell are you doing?"

****

"We're going for a walk," Harry states, sauntering into the foyer, slipping on the ridiculous moccasins he likes to wear when he's too lazy for real shoes.

****

Louis freezes, a sudden sense of foreboding clouding through his whole body. "You're not - you're not going to like, dump me off somewhere, are you?"

****

Harry gasps, completely appalled. "God, Lou, no! What the hell have you been thinking about lately?" Louis shrugs. "Fuck, Lou, I'm not going to dump you off somewhere. I'm going to take you to the park. It's beautiful, today."

****

"We're going to the park?" Louis perks up immediately. "I haven't been to the park since I was like, thirteen."

****

"Y'know, I've never actually asked how old you are, Lou," Harry says conversationally, switching Louis to one hand to grab his house keys of the holder.

****

"Oh," Louis hums. ""M twenty-one."

****

"Older than me," Harry says, laughing lightly. "I'm nineteen, if you were wondering."

****

"Just a young'un," Louis says. Harry laughs again.

****

"Can't believe you haven't been to the park since you were thirteen," Harry scolds, stepping out the front door and locking it before starting down the hall to the small lift that takes them to the lobby.

 

"Just haven't felt the need to go, I guess," Louis says, curling up in Harry's palm as the lift opens and Harry steps inside. They ride down is short and silent, door dinging again as it opens and Harry steps out.

****

"Get in my pocket until we get there, yeah?" Harry instructs. He waits for Louis' nod of approval before he brings his hand down and lets Louis slip into the pocket of his light jacket. "Let's go, then," Harry says and Louis knows he's grinning, walking out of the main door and into the sweet summer air.

****

x

****

Louis ends up buried in Harry's curls halfway through their walk to the park because it was sweltering hot outside and even hotter inside Harry's pocket, and if Louis hadn't gotten out of there, he was quite sure he would've baked like a worm in the sun.

****

Up in Harry's hair he at least gets a breeze, and Harry's hair smells like strawberries.

****

It's been so long since he's been outside, and he wishes he'd asked Harry to take him out way sooner than now instead of being a paranoid twat, because he's missed this. He used to love spending time outside whenever he could, loved playing hide and seek outside in Doncaster with his little sisters until he moved to go to Uni. Before he dropped out because he ran out of money and his funds from his mum had been drained because of her and Mark's divorce, that is.

****

Working at the cafe hadn't really given him much free time, either, because he had to work every shift he could just to make rent every month.

****

He figures he'll have plenty of time to go outside when he's big again because there's no doubt in his mind that he's been fired from his job and his landlord has kicked him out for being completely AWOL by now.

****

Louis hums, deciding to ignore the problems he's going to have to face when he's big again because right now he's small, and he's got Harry and Harry's lovely strawberry-scented curls to take care of him.

****

x

****

The park is packed when they get there, full of families out for picnics on a lovely summer day and couples lounging on blankets, arms around each other and generally just enjoying being together.

 

Harry manages to find them a nice secluded area over by a patch of yellow and white daisies mixed in with pretty pink and purple tulips. It's nice and shady and nobody around is in earshot, so Harry doesn't have to worry about people thinking he's insane and holding a conversation with himself when he's actually talking to Louis, who just barely manages not to get lost in the grass.

 

Louis eventually climbs up onto Harry's leg, sitting up on his thigh, swinging his legs like he's sitting on a bench. Harry's leaning up against the tree that's casting their shade, humming noncommittally to himself. He's pulled off his jacket and has the three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned, open to mid-chest to let the breeze cool his skin.

****

The thing is, Louis' never fooled himself about how attractive he thinks Harry is. It's not just the eyes and the hair and the lips and the jaw, but Harry in general that makes Harry beautiful. He's physically gratifying, yes, but it's his personality that gets Louis the most. It's the boy who saves teacups and paints naked portraits of his mates for class and gives Louis a whole dollhouse mansion just so he can feel semi-normal again.

****

Louis won't deny that he's infatuated with the boy in front of him, won't deny that he's thought about what it would be like if he and Harry had met under different circumstances, had met when Louis was still big. He wonders if they would have been friends like they were now. He wonders if they may have been more.

****

Wondering about these things is all he can do, though, because he's starting to believe he's never going to actually be big again. Louis doesn't know for sure if he's alright with that.

****

"Lou?" Harry hums, breaking Louis from his reverie.

****

"Yeah?" Louis murmurs, flopping over so he can lay on Harry's thigh because the breeze hits him better this way.

****

"D'you ever wonder about it?" Harry asks. "I mean like, wonder if you're ever going to be big again?"

****

"S'creepy, Haz," Louis snickers. Harry makes a noise. Louis can't tell if he's confused or offended. "S'creepy because I was just thinking about it, right now."

****

Harry snorts a laugh. "You're right. That's creepy," he says. "But you do think about it, then?"

 

Louis nods. "All the time," he confesses. "I have to wonder about how my life's going to be when I'm big again, y'know? I'm probably going to lose my job and my flat because I've just gone missing in action. But then again I might not ever be big again, so I don't know if I should be worrying as much as I am."

 

"Y'don't have to worry about your job, though, at least," says Harry. Louis rolls, sitting Indian style now so he can peer up as Harry's face.

****

"What do you mean?"

****

Harry shrugs. "I was passing by the cafe where you work after class a few days after I found you, and I saw that the guy who gave me the teacup was working, so I went in and talked to him. Told him I was a friend of yours and that you had a family emergency back home that you had to attend to and you'd be gone until further notice. He said he'd talk to the boss."

****

Louis' gawking at Harry by the time Harry's done, and Harry's grinning down at him. "Went back the day after, too," he adds, "and Liam said everything was good and that you'd have a job still when you came back. About your flat, though, I can't really help with that."

****

"And you never thought to tell me about this?"

****

Harry shrugs. "Never came up."

****

"You are amazing," Louis gushes, flopping forward to give Harry's thigh the biggest hug he can manage with his tiny arms. "Does suck about my flat, though."

****

"You could just move in with me?" Harry offers and Louis' stunned once again. "I mean, you already live here now and you'll have a job still when you're big and it'd be nice to have a flatmate for once, really," Harry babbles, off on a tangent. "And you already sleep in my bed - in my hair, really - so it wouldn't really be an issue to sleep in the same bed, unless you'd feel weird sleeping next to me when you're big. But it's just an offer. You don't have to if you don't want to -"

****

"Harry, Harry, shut up," Louis cuts in, giving Harry's thigh a smack just in case Harry's babbling too much to hear him. Harry's mouth snaps shut in a way that should be comical but is actually really cute. "I'd - I'd love to move in with you, but only - only if you're sure I wouldn't be a burden."

****

Harry snorts. "Lou, you're not a burden now and you won't be a burden when you're big again, either. So yeah. Move in with me?"

****

Louis' face cracks into a smile and he nods. "Guess we're officially flatmates now. Hope you like big me as much as you like little me."

****

Harry grins back, dimple a crater in his cheek. "I've got a feeling that I might actually like him more. If only because he can have a wee without asking for my help."

 

"You promised not you wouldn't hold that against me, you dick," Louis gripes, sliding off of Harry's leg, landing in the grass with a soft thud.

****

"Hey, hey, come back! I didn't mean it, swear," Harry pleads as Louis trudges off towards the patch of flowers.

****

"Take a nap or something, Haz, I'm over it," Louis sniffs, stepping into the forest of stems.

****

"C'mon, Lou, I can't see you now," protests Harry. "How do I know you're not going to get eaten by a millipede, or something?"

****

"I'm quite sure I can take a millipede, thank you," Louis calls. He bets he's in the middle of the small flower patch by now, so he stops walking and sits, breathing in deep. The scent of the flowers is more concentrated now than it was when he first entered the patch, surrounding him in clouds and making him feel dizzy with it. It reminds him of the days he'd bring Phoebe and Daisy to this same park and sit with them while they wove flower crowns and set them atop his head.

****

Louis stands, grabbing at the stem of one of the yellow daisies, pulling until the flower breaks off.

****

He repeats the process until he has a decently-sized pile of daisies and tulips at his feet, stems just long enough to braid them together.

****

It takes everything he has just to keep control of the stems and braid them how he needs them, keep them all in the right direction so he can close the weave when the crown is big enough. All of the rustling must catch Harry's attention because his hands are parting the flowers and peering down at where Louis' just finishing the weave. "Is that for me?" He asks, and Louis can hear the grin in his voice.

****

"Maybe," Louis hums, pushing the crown towards Harry. "Put it on?"

****

Harry gives a small chuckle, nodding as he picks the crown up with gentle fingers, placing it over his curls. It looks ridiculously good on him, whites and yellows and pinks and purples against alabaster skin, and Louis finds himself flushing. "Where'd you learn to make these?" Harry asks, offering his hand.

****

Louis shrugs, hopping into Harry's palm. Harry takes him up to his shoulder and Louis scuttles off, curling up against Harry's neck. "My little sisters used to make them for me all the time," Louis says, if only the smallest bit of melancholy in his voice.

 

"Do you miss them?" Harry asks, albeit hesitantly.

****

Louis nods. "All the time," he admits. "Not just now, though. Ever since I moved, I don't really see them much. I bet the twins have gotten so big."

****

"Twins?"

****

"Phoebe and Daisy," Louis says, cracking a small smile as he pictures them, with their blond hair and blue eyes, the chubby fingers they had the last time he saw them. "They'll be ten, soon."

****

"When you're big again," says Harry, "Me and you are going to take a drive to Doncaster and go see them. All four sisters, actually."

****

"I'd like that," Louis hums, relaxing further against Harry's neck.

****

They fall into an easy silence, Louis curled up against Harry's neck and Harry picking flowers, arranging them in a bouquet to take and put in a vase when they get home. There's still a breeze but it's getting colder now, and Louis gives a small shiver, grabbing a handful of Harry's curls and pulling it down around himself.

****

"Cold?" Harry murmurs, reaching up a hand to stroke a finger down Louis' side, as if testing his temperature.

****

"Bit," Louis admits, amending it to "Very, actually," when another shiver wracks his tiny body.

****

"We can go home, then," Harry says and Louis perks up at the way Harry says 'home.' "Do you wanna ride pocket or curls?"

****

"Pocket," Louis decides. Harry offers his hand again and Louis steadies himself on Harry's neck before hopping on, adjusting himself to get comfortable in Harry's pocket when Harry sets him inside.

****

"Off we go, then," Harry chirps, getting up onto his feet. Louis nearly tumbles out of the pocket but manages to hold on, grumbling to himself as he's forced to get comfy again.

 

He doesn't grumble about Harry, though. He doesn't think he actually could.

****

x

****

Once they're back into the flat - greeted at the door by Dusty - Harry grabs Louis out of his pocket, setting him on the kitchen table. "Y'want mac and cheese for lunch, or no?"

****

"Sure. Make it." Louis says, sitting cross-legged on the table top. "Don't burn yourself like you did last time."

****

"Quiet, you," Harry makes a shooing motion at him, reaching up to grab a pot from the cabinet to boil the water in.

****

Once the water's set to boil Harry comes to the table and sits down, beckoning Louis over. Louis scuttles to Harry and sits again, arms around his knees.

****

Harry's developed a bit of a tendency of staring in the past couple days, likes to stick his chin on his palm and watch Louis as he moves around or simply sits in one spot like he is now. Louis thinks he should be creeped out, but he's known Harry long enough to be confident that Harry's not trying to decide which parts of him would be best to cut up and put in a salad, or something. He figures that Harry just likes to look at him, figures he's fascinated by Louis' tiny, compact stature, smaller than Harry's hand.

****

"D'you," Harry starts, pursing his lips. "D'you ever wonder why you're small? Like - what you did that brought it on?"

****

"Of course I've thought about it," Louis says. "And I've come up with jack shit, frankly. The best thing I could think of was Karma, but I couldn't think of anything I've done that would evoke getting turned like this."

****

Harry blows out a puff of air, kicking up one of the curls over his forehead. "Maybe it's like, divine intervention."

****

Louis snorts. "I don't know why God would think it necessary to shrink me down to five centimeters just so he could prove a point."

****

"What if it's not meant to prove a point?" Harry muses. "What if it's meant to change your life in a way you couldn't if you were big?"

****

Louis presses his lips into a thin line. "When the hell did you get so philosophical, Haz?"

****

"'S'my mate, Zayn," Harry laughs, light and breathy. "Talks about shit like that all the time." Harry runs a hand through his curls, a vain effort to tame the windswept disaster. "Do you think that could be it, though?"

 

"Perhaps," Louis says. He really does think Harry could be right - thinks that he really is meant to do something in his small body that he couldn't in his big, meet somebody in his small body that he may never have had the chance to meet if he was big. He wonders (hopeshopesprays) that that somebody might be Harry. "Maybe I was supposed to, like, meet somebody, or something."

****

Coming into this, Louis hadn't even thought that Harry might become more to him than just a best mate. He felt like he'd feel dirty and wrong for falling for the person that was providing everything for him just so he could live semi-normally, knew he'd feel stupid for loving Harry when he himself may never be big again. He didn't want to fall for Harry the way he feels like he is, didn't want to burden Harry with it because he knew that as long as he was small, he could never love Harry the way Harry should be loved, and Harry couldn't love him proper, either.

****

If he even loved him at all, that is.

****

Louis figures he'd seen it coming, seen it with the way he'd find his thoughts wandering to Harry when Harry would be gone, seen it with the way he felt more at home buried in Harry's curls than he did anywhere else.

****

"No idea who it could be, though," Louis lies, eyes downcast because he can't stand to see the look on Harry's face, whether it be one of disappointment or relief.

****

"Oh," Harry says. Louis looks up, searches Harry's eyes and he feels like Harry has more to say, but doesn't say it. "I, um, I better check the water."

****

"Yeah, 'course," Louis mutters, folding his fingers together and dropping them into his lap.

****

The rest of their lunch in a tense silence and it feels weird, abnormal, and Louis can't stand it. It's never like this with he and Harry - never tense to the point where all they can afford for conversation is half-arsed sentences and even shittier replies. There's a tight feeling in Louis' chest that he can't seem to shake off; like a paperweight pressing onto his heart and he just wants to say something, but he can't think of what.

****

Louis starts when Harry's phone goes off, buzzing harshly against the table top. Harry picks it up, brow furrowing as he reads whatever's on the screen. He texts back quickly before setting the phone back down, dropping his fork onto his empty plate.

****

"Who was that?" Louis asks, eyes downcast in case Harry decides he's being too-prying.

****

"It was, uh, it was Niall. Invited me to a party tonight. Said I'd go." Harry answers, and when Louis' eyes flicker up in surprise, Harry's not looking at him.

****

"Oh, well, have fun, I guess." Louis murmurs.

****

"It's just that I've sort've been ignoring Niall and the other guys -"

****

"Harry, you don't have to explain." Louis assures. "You have every right to go out to a party. Hell, you deserve a night out."

****

Harry gives a weak smile, collecting his and Louis' plates, carrying them over to the sink and dumping them inside. "I'll make sure to make dinner before I leave."

****

"Alright, thanks," Louis says, happy that the atmosphere seems to be drifting back to the usual norm.

****

"You can still sleep in my bed, if you want," Harry says, sliding back into his seat at the kitchen table.

****

"And be woken up by the your nasty beer stench in the morning?" Louis snorts "I think I'll sleep in my own bed, tonight."

****

"If you insist," Harry shrugs. He flicks his hair out of his eyes before offering his hand and asking, "Wanna go watch Nigella? I need some ideas for dinner tonight."

****

Louis grins and nods, hopping into Harry's hand, happy that whatever little row he and Harry had stumbled into was good and over.

****

x

****

Harry decides to make chicken fajitas with lemon sauce for dinner, folding up the tiniest fajita Louis had ever seen and placing it on Louis' plate. They eat late, finishing at about nine, and Harry heads out shortly after. He leaves the telly remote on the couch and says he'll be back later, probably a lot more intoxicated than he was when he left. Louis snorts and shoos him out the door, giving his blessing and telling Harry to have a good time.

****

Louis watches re-runs of Misfits until his eyes start to feel heavy, and he's nodding against the couch where he sits. Dusty seems to sense that it's bed time, hopping up on the couch and nudging Louis with his nose, laying down to let Louis sleepily atop him. Louis climbs on and holds as Dusty hops down from the couch, trotting over to the bookcase where Louis slides off right into the dollhouse bedroom.

****

Louis strips down and slips slowly into bed, curling up under the covers. He's fast asleep in minutes.

****

x

****

Louis' rudely awoken at a time that can't be any later than early-morning - probably only two or three A.M. - by the raucous of a door crashing open and two distinctly different-sounding, poorly muffled giggles. One of the giggles is obviously Harry - high-pitched and snorty. The other could be Niall, Louis supposes, but can't figure out why Niall would have come back to Harry's flat instead of staying at his own, where the party had been.

****

Louis tries to ignore the noises, throwing his duvet over his head. Harry and could-be-Niall crash their way through the sitting room, eventually making it down the hallway, taking their crashing and banging somewhere Louis doesn't have to hear it any more.

****

He hears the slam of Harry's door and he flinches. He can't help but wonder what Harry and his friend could be doing, and the curiosity itches up his spine, lips pursing to whistle out for Dusty.

****

The curiosity gets the best of him when he hears a large thud come from Harry's room. He calls for Dusty and - loyal as always - the cat comes scampering over second later, meowing softly and bumping his head against Louis when he gets up out of bed. "Harry's room, now, come on," Louis instructs as he climbs atop Dusty, although he's sure that Dusty already knows where he wants to go.

****

Dusty trots down the hallway and Louis quirks an eyebrow when he sees that Harry's door is open a crack, because he knows for sure that he'd heard it slam closed. Dusty slinks in through the open door, pausing once he's in, like he can sense that something isn't quite right.

****

And something is not quite right, indeed.

****

The second Louis sees it he feels like a massive idiot, because he should have known.

 

Harry and his friend - who is definitely not Niall, hair too dark, body too long, hair quiffed too high, much too old - are pushed together against the wall. The friend has Harry pinned up against it, Harry's naked legs wrapped around his waist, and it takes Louis only a second, even in the inky dark of Harry's bedroom, to realize that the bloke's jeans are pushed down below his hips and he's _thrusting_.

****

Louis feels sick.

****

Harry's making all sorts of noises, head thrown back, keening as the guy - who Louis is certain Harry's never associated with as long as Louis' been with him - fucks him into the wall. Louis squeezes his eyes shut, tugging a tuft of Dusty's hair to get the cat to take him out of the room, back to his bed where he can curl up and pretend he didn't see what he just did, pretend that it doesn't make him feel like his heart has just split into pieces, like his stomach isn't trying to claw it's way up out his throat.

****

Blessedly Dusty gets the hint, turning without a sound and slinking out of the room the way he came in. He trots swiftly back to Louis' dollhouse, laying down to let Louis slide off. Louis pets him on his nose before heading back into the doll house bedroom, burying himself in the bed. He curls up into a ball under the duvet, pulling it tight around him like if he gets it snug enough, he'll be able to forget.

****

x

****

Morning comes. Louis doesn't forget.

****

He can hear Harry puttering around in the kitchen and he wonders if the bloke with the stupid quiff is still there, wonders if Harry’s out there making him breakfast or if he’d slipped out after he’d gotten what he wanted, perhaps with a kiss to Harry’s cheek, a tuck of his number into Harry’s palm, and a “Call me, love, yeah?”

****

Louis rolls over in bed, staring out into the empty sitting room. He doesn’t really want to think about that, think about the possibility that Harry’s found somebody who he really likes and is going to want to spend time with that isn’t Louis, and then he scolds himself for being so utterly selfish.

****

He wonders for a brief moment if what he feels for Harry is like, stockholm syndrome or something of the sort, but he shakes it off because he’s absolutely certain that it’s not. Harry would have taken him home any time Louis asked him to, with no hesitations if he knew it was what Louis really wanted.

****

Louis thinks that might be what he wants, now.

****

If he’d felt like a burden to Harry before, it’s nothing compared to the burden he feels he’s become, now. He hates how he feels like he’s impeding on Harry’s life, remembers the way Harry had shushed the guy as they careened through the flat, still having to think of Louis even as he stumbled to his bedroom to go get laid.

****

Louis wishes now more than he has since this began that he could be big again, wishes he didn’t have to rely on Harry for everything any more. He feels helpless, like a child, and he’s sick and tired of having to go to bed wondering if he’s ruining Harry’s life.

****

It’s time for him to go home, whether he’s able to support himself on his own or not.

****

Louis can hear Harry humming to himself as he moves through the kitchen, the scent of bacon and eggs and cinnamon toast wafting into the sitting room. Louis’ stomach growls but he doesn’t want to get up, doesn’t want to face Harry now, having seen what he saw and made the decision he did.

****

He wonders if Harry will be disappointed, wonders if he will see true sorrow in Harry’s eyes or if he’ll see joy, falsely veiled by an attempt to appear sad.

****

The sound of the teapot going off trills through the flat and Louis knows that Harry will come to see if he’s awake, and he’d rather be up and out in the kitchen so he doesn’t have to deal with the sight of Harry bending down and peeking into the doll house, doesn’t want to have to look at Harry’s face so close as he grins and says, “Good morning, Lou!”

****

Louis sits up in bed and whistles, waiting patiently for Dusty to come along. When the cat comes to a stop in front of the doll house Louis thinks that he looks understanding, knows what Louis’ been thinking and gets that Louis has to leave.

****

He gives Dusty’s head a pat as he climbs on and gets situated, grabbing on to clumps of hair as Dusty trots out to the kitchen. Dusty’s moving slower than normal and Louis knows that Dusty can sense that Louis is in no hurry to get to Harry and say what he needs to say.

****

Harry’s just pulling the tea bag out of a mug when Dusty trots into the kitchen with Louis on his back, and Harry turns at the sound of Dusty’s nails on the tile. He smiles, bright despite the dark bags under his eyes. “Good morning,” Harry greets, picking up the tea. “I made breakfast.”

****

Louis nods stiffly, urging Dusty forward. The cat jumps up on to one of the kitchen chairs and then to the table, standing still to let Louis slide off.

****

“I hope bacon, eggs, and toast is good for brekkie,” Harry says, setting the tea down on the table. “I only made on plate, though, so we’ll have to share.”

 

“‘S’okay,” Louis mumbles, eyes downcast. He can’t bear to look at Harry again, see the way he looks so earnest and happy when Louis just can’t get the image of the way Harry looked last night out of his mind.

****

Louis keeps his eyes fixed on the scratched surface of Harry’s table, listening as Harry grabs out a fork from the drawer and grabs the plate of food, setting that down as well before pulling his chair out and taking a seat.

****

“How was your night, Lou?” Harry asks. He sounds like he’s got his mouth full and on a normal morning Louis would curl his lip and scold him for speaking while chewing, but he just can’t. “Sleep well without me?”

****

Louis shrugs. “Slept alright, I suppose,” he mutters, scolding himself for being such a fucking twat now when he knows he’s about to break Harry’s heart. Louis realizes now that it doesn’t matter to Harry if Louis’ a burden to him - he’ll be devastated either way because that’s just the way Harry is. He’ll be devastated that he couldn’t give something broken a home this time, devastated that he’s failed one of his treasures.

****

Louis feels like that might be all he ever was to Harry - a project to fix, something much more exciting than a busted teacup or a table with a wobbly leg.

****

“I was hoping you wouldn’t have to actually sleep alone last night,” Harry admits and Louis feels his heart sink into his stomach. “I wasn’t really planning on staying at the party so long, but Niall made these shots and I got a lot more drunk than I wanted to -”

****

“I want you to take me home,” Louis blurts, eyes clenched shut to make up for the fact that he can’t close his ears. He doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to listen to Harry talk about how the party was so great and he met this awesome bloke and he’s definitely going to see him again.

****

“...What?” says Harry.

****

“I want you to take me back to my own apartment,” Louis says in a rush, wrapping his arms around himself for protection from something he can’t think of, for strength to do what he needs to. “I just - I can’t stay here anymore.”

****

“Louis, what - what brought this on?” Harry asks. Louis wants to desperately to look up, to see Harry’s face, but he knows if he does he’s going to lose his resolve, going to laugh off what he’s just said and tell Harry he was only joking around. “It’s not because I left you home to go to Niall’s party, is it?”

****

“No, god, it’s not,” Louis huffs, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I just - I can’t stay here. I can’t be the reason you feel like you have to leave parties early or have to ask if it’s okay to go hang out with your friends. I can’t be the reason that when you bring somebody home you have to pretend like it’s a secret.”

****

Harry makes a startled sound and Louis breaks, eyes flickering up to his face. Harry’s got his lip between his teeth and his brow is furrowed. Louis can’t give a name to the expression on his face, but he thinks it sits somewhere between shocked and remorseful.

****

“Lou, I -”

****

“No, Harry, it’s okay,” Louis says. “It’s alright, really. I’ve made up my mind about this.”

****

“What are you going to do, Louis?” Harry asks and he sounds a bit angry this time. “Your flat isn’t equipped for you to live in. You can’t grocery shop for yourself or get into your own bed or even take a piss by yourself. You need me.”

****

“I don’t want to need you, Harry! Fuck!” Louis explodes. “I don’t want to depend on you for the rest of my fucking life because at the rate I’m going now, that’s how it’s going to end up. I’m a fucking adult, Harry, and I’m sick of having to depend on you like I’m a child.”

****

“You’re not a child, Louis,” Harry says, exasperated. “You’re just small. And you can’t live in a normal-sized flat by yourself!”

****

“I’ll fucking call up Liam or somebody for help, then,” Louis snaps.

****

“And how is that different from having me help you?”

****

“Because I don’t want your help any more!” Louis cries, tossing his hands up into the air.

****

Harry’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops for a moment before snapping shut, His whole face smooths out into something Louis can’t read, but his eyes give him away. He’s hurt, Louis knows he is, but he’s determined not to feel bad because he can’t change his mind about this now.

****

“I’ll take you home, then,” Harry says, quiet and measured. “You can have to dollhouse. I won’t have any use for it.”

****

Louis bites his lip, nodding. “All of my clothes are in there.”

****

“I know.”

****

“Let’s go now, then, shall we?” Louis proposes, hating how curt and tense it feels between he and Harry. “Grab the dollhouse and then go?”

****

Harry doesn’t nod or say anything, just gets up from his chair, disappearing from the kitchen.

****

The plate of food sits cold on the table, and Louis feels cold, too.

****

x

****

Harry doesn’t say a word after he drops Louis off at his flat, doesn’t even say goodbye after opening the door and setting the dollhouse down next to Louis’ ratty old sofa.

****

Louis sits on the ground for a long while after Harry leaves, curled up into a ball and wondering how he’s supposed to make it, now. He knows he could call Liam, get him to come over and tell him everything. He’s sure Liam would help him, sure that if he asked, Liam wouldn’t hesitate to let Louis live with him for the time being.

****

He feels like a hypocrite, what with the way he’s just left Harry for feeling like a burden when he’s about to ring Liam and become the same to him, but in the back of his mind, Louis knows it’s different.

****

Liam and Louis have been friends for years and Liam owes Louis more favors than Louis can keep track of. With Harry it had just been grab-and-go, Harry taking up care for Louis without ever owing him anything beforehand.The relationship was so unequal that it ate at Louis every day, coming to a peak when he’d realized that, against his original intentions, he’d fallen for Harry and fallen for him hard.

****

Louis ends up uncurling himself somewhere around an hour later, pursing his lips to whistle before he realizes he hasn’t got a Dusty here to ferry him along. He sighs, deciding he ought to start his trek to his bedroom, praying that his phone is still on the floor where he’d let it stay after it’d fallen off his bed the morning of the day he’d turned small. It won’t matter if his phone is completely dead because the power cord is plugged into and outlet where he can easily reach it from the ground if need be.

****

It takes him just under ten minutes to traverse his flat and make it to his bedroom, breathing a sigh or relief when he spots his phone sitting on the carpet right next to his unmade bed. It feels weird to him, seeing his bed and not being able to remember what it felt like the last time he slept in it.

****

His phone is dead but it’s alright; he simply pushes it over to the power cord, struggling to connect it for a moment. It beeps when it begins charging, powering on automatically. He punches in his passcode and goes into his recent calls, scrolling until he reaches Liam’s contact. He select it and puts it on speaker, waiting patiently for Liam to pick up.

****

“Lou?” Liam’s voice floods through the speakers.

****

“Hey, Liam,” Louis says, clearing his throat because his voice sounds all wrong.

****

“Holy shit, Louis, I haven’t heard from you in months!” Liam exclaims. “What the hell have you been doing?”

****

“It’s a really long story, actually,” Louis laughs, humorless. “Probably best if I explain it to you in person.”

****

“I’ll be right over,” Liam says and Louis feels like he could kiss him. “Give me five minutes, alright?”

****

“‘Course,” Louis says. He wonders if he can make it back to his sitting room in five minutes.

****

“I’ll see you then, yeah?” Liam says and Louis can hear him shuffling around, probably putting his shoes on.

****

“Yeah, Li, see you in a few,” Louis confirms, getting up so he can start making his way back to the sitting room, planning on jogging it if he has to.

****

Liam bids him farewell and Louis hangs up, keeping the phone on the ground. He hops around a bit before starting a jog, hoping desperately that when Liam gets to the flat, he doesn’t have a massive freak out.

****

Louis makes it into the sitting room right as he hears a knock on his door, having to pause and catch his breath before he yells out, loud as he can, “Come in!”

****

Thankfully Liam must hear him because the door opens and Liam comes inside. “Lou?” he calls, brow furrowing when Louis isn’t just behind the door like he’d expected.

****

“Yeah, Li, down here,” Louis calls, waving his arms above his head.

****

“Down - what?” Liam’s eyes widen comically when his eyes drop to the floor and he sees Louis in all of his five centimeter glory. Louis waves. “My god,” Liam breathes, dropping down to his knees to get more on Louis’ level. “The fuck?”

****

“Don’t ask why or how, because I’ve no fucking clue,” Louis says.

****

“Have you been living in your flat like this small this whole time?” Liam asks. His hand twitches like he wants to reach out and touch Louis to make sure he’s real, but isn’t sure if he can.

****

“See, now that’s the long story part I mentioned earlier,” Louis says.

****

“I’ve, uh, I’ve got time,” Liam says, shifting so he’s sitting Indian-style on the carpet.

****

Louis snorts, feeling a wave of melancholic sadness wash over him. “Well it all starts at the cafe, really.”

****

x

****

By the time Louis’ finished his story he’s fighting back tears, struggling to hold back the remorse from leaving Harry now that he’s had to recall it. Liam’s watching him with weary eyes.

****

“So you just left?” Liam says and Louis can tell he’s judging him.

****

“It just didn’t feel right staying there any more,” Louis defends. “There I was harboring some unrequited love while he was off bringing home strange men with stupid quiffs for drunken fucks. And the worst part is that I can’t even blame him because really, how could he love me back?”

****

Liam sighs, shaking his head. “How do you know that, Lou? Did you even think to talk to him about it?”

****

“Why would I?” Louis huffs. “It’s quite obvious somebody doesn’t have feelings for you when they bring somebody else home.”

****

“You should have talked to him, Lou,” Liam says. Louis groans, burying his face in his hands.

****

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Louis mutters, that suffocating feeling of loss and regret squeezing up into his heart again.

****

“I’m going to talk about it, then, alright?” says Liam. “You’re going to come live with me for a week, and if you turn big again in that time, I’ll let you leave and make your own decisions about Harry and everything because I won’t be constantly worrying about your well-being. And if you don’t turn big, we’re both going to take a little trip down to Harry’s flat and you’re going to talk to him and work everything out. Sound good?”

****

“I hate when you go all Daddy-Payne on me,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

****

Liam snorts. “It’s how I have to be with you, or else you’d never do anything you’re supposed to.”

****

Louis sighs. “Fine then. It’s a deal.”

****

“Good,” Liam looks much too smug. “Gather up your dollhouse and let’s get going, then.”

****

x

****

Louis spends the week at Liam’s house a little like this:

****

The first day is spent just laying around, letting Liam get familiar with having a teacup-sized Louis living with him in his flat. He takes to it pretty well, and Louis can’t help but compare everything Liam does that first day to how Harry did it.

****

Liam makes his meals bigger than Harry did. Liam carries him around in a loose fist, so much different than Harry’s open palm. Liam doesn’t let Louis sleep in his bed, scared he’s going to roll and crush him. Louis finds himself missing Harry’s curls.

****

Louis alternates days praying he’ll wake up the next and be big again and hoping that he’ll stay small because he’s so unhappy with the way he and Harry left things. He’s so indecisive, though, stuck between wanting to talk to Harry and fix things and simply wanting to just stay away for his own stupid, selfish reasons.

****

He just doesn’t want to get hurt. He doesn’t want to go to Harry and tell him how he feels and have Harry reject him, make him feel like a fool for ever saying it out loud.

****

Yet the other side of his mind can’t stop thinking up that scenario where he tells Harry how he loves him and Harry says it back, tells him it doesn’t matter that he’s small because he’s Louis, and it’s Louis that Harry fell in love with, nothing to do with his size.

****

He really wishes it could be that easy, wishes he and Harry could live that cliche happy-ever-after, but he knows that they can’t. Louis won’t ever be able to love Harry how he deserves to be loved if he can’t even take care of his own self, first.

****

Liam catches Louis thinking, sometimes. He’ll draw Louis out of it with an offer of tea and a couple big crumbs from the chocolate biscuit he’s eating, get Louis to say what he’s thinking out loud so it can stop tearing him up inside. He says the same thing every time, scolds Louis with a shake of the head, tells him he won’t ever know if he never takes the chance to say it to Harry instead.

****

Louis puts Liam off, tells him he’s not ready and then Liam will remind him he’s only got six days, five, four, three, two, and then it’s the last, and he’s still small and Liam’s carrying him out to his car, and he’s not ready at all.

****

“Liam, please, I can’t do this,” Louis begs, struggling against Liam as Liam tightens his fist around him. “I can’t talk to him, I can’t -”

****

“You can, and you will,” Liam urges, opening the driver’s side door and sliding into the car.

****

“He’s going to reject me, Liam,” Louis says, sulking miserably where Liam sets him down in the passenger seat.

****

“You don’t know that.” Liam says, flat and stern. Louis sighs.

****

“You didn’t see his face when I told him I wanted to leave,” Louis bites his lip, remembering that look in Harry’s eyes, the blankness of his face. “He hates me.”

****

“That’s shit, Lou,” Liam shakes his head, turning the key in the ignition. The car comes to life with a rumble. “He wouldn’t have been so upset that you left if he didn’t feel something for you.”

****

“Says who?” Louis argues.

****

“You’re being an insufferable arse,” Liam says. He digs the piece of paper that he’d made Louis write Harry’s address on the first day he brought him home and they made their deal. “And I’m not going to sit and let you wallow in self-pity when your issues are perfectly resolvable if you’ll just stop being a twat and talk to harry like you should have done the morning after he brought that bloke home instead of acting completely crass and irrational.”

****

Louis’ gaping by the time Liam’s done, never having heard him speak like that to anyone, ever. “Uh, wow, Liam I -”

****

“I don’t mean to be a dick, Louis, but you’ve got to see that there could be more to why Harry slept with that guy that what you first initially thought. You don’t know what was going through Harry’s mind and if you never give him the chance to explain, you’ll never find out.”

****

“Why do you always have to be so rational?” Louis grumbles, sinking deeper into the seat until he’s nearly engulfed in the leather. One thing he really likes about being small is the innate ability to disappear whenever he feels like curling up in a ball somewhere and pitying himself until he feels better.

****

“Somebody has to be rational when it comes to you, because you’re obviously incapable of being rational for yourself.”

****

“That’s rude.”

****

“It’s true.”

****

Louis huffs again, tucking his head into his arms.

****

Liam lives five blocks or so from Harry’s building, so Louis only has minutes before Liam’s parking up against the curb and Louis’ face to face with the last place he thought he’d be again in a matter of only a week. He wonders if Harry’s even home or if he’s out with that bloke with the quiff again, celebrating his freedom now that he hasn’t got the weighted burden of Louis on his back anymore.

****

“Come on, Lou, it’s now or never,” Liam says, unbuckling his seat belt, reaching over the console to urge Louis into his hand.

****

“Frankly, I prefer the ‘never’ option,” Louis gripes, scooting away from Liam’s hand. He’s trying to act cool and calm and collected, like he’s not on the verge of falling apart at the seams at the aspect of seeing Harry again, talking to Harry again, but he knows if Liam gets him in hand he’s not going to let him go until he’s face to face with stupid curls and stupid green eyes and Louis’ not sure if he can handle that.

****

“Louis, stop,” Liam pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, a classic ‘Liam Payne is done with the bullshit’ move. “I’m sick and tired of watching you be miserable because you haven’t the balls to go talk to Harry and fix something that might not actually be that broken in the first place.”

****

Louis groans, scooting closer to Liam because fuck it all, Liam’s right. If he doesn’t face this now he’s always going to wonder, wonder if he threw away and amazing friendship or and amazing love, even, because he was too frightened and insecure to take a risk. “Promise me you’ll get me out of there if things go bad?”

****

Liam laughs despite himself, nodding as his fingers curl around Louis’ body, lifting him from the seat. “I doubt it will, but yes, I promise.”

****

Louis curls tight around Liam’s fingers when he opens the car door, stepping out onto the short sidewalk that leads up to Harry’s building.

****

“Do you think he knows we’re here?” Louis asks, a feeling of paranoia sinking into his bones.

****

“I don’t think so,” Liam says. “Doesn’t know what my car looks like, does he? And I doubt he can see you out his window.”

****

“Hush,” Louis scolds, slapping Liam’s knuckle with an open palm. Liam makes a tiny hurt sound.

****

“Don’t smack me for answering your question, Lou,” Liam gripes. Louis rolls his eyes.

****

The little bell over the door rings when Liam opens it, stepping inside the ground floor lobby. It looks exactly how Louis remembers it - obviously, Louis thinks, seeing as the last time he’d been there had been only a few days longer than a week ago. Liam heads straight for the lift, pressing the button to open the doors, stepping back to wait for it.

****

“What floor is he on, again?” Liam asks, foot tapping.

****

“Third,” Louis says. There’s that sinking feeling again, tight and heavy in the center of his chest.

****

The lift dings, doors sliding open. Liam steps inside, pressing the button for the third floor, and Louis feels like he might start to hyperventilate. He has to close his eyes and breathe deep once the doors close and the lift starts going up. Liam rubs a soothing thumb up and down from elbow to shoulder. It helps, if only the smallest bit.

****

The lift dings once again, doors sliding open. Liam steps out. Louis closes his eyes again.

****

His heart pounds with every step Liam takes, counting off the numbers on the doors until he gets to Harry’s. Louis feels like he’s tied to the tracks of the underground, bound with rope with no way to escape as the train comes speeding towards him, no sign of stopping.

****

“Are you ready?” Liam asks, voice quiet. He’s got his fist raised, ready to knock when Louis gives him the okay.

****

Louis shakes his head. “Never ready.” He says.

****

“Now or never,” Liam states. And with that he brings his fist down on the door, _knock!knock!knocking_ three loud times before stepping back and waiting.

****

Louis tries to hide himself, attempting to burrow down in Liam’s hand. “I said I wasn’t ready, Liam!”

****

Liam snorts. “If I went by what you say, we’d be here until next year.”

****

Louis opens his mouth to retort but finds the words frozen in his throat as the door creaks open, and he comes face to face with -

****

Not Harry.

****

“Uh, can I help you?” Not-Harry says, caramel eyes looking Liam up and down. Liam quickly tucks Louis into the pocket up his jacket. Louis peeks out, making sure he’s still properly obstructed from view.

****

Not-Harry leans against the doorframe, running a hand through his inky black quiff. Louis’ never met him before but he’s pretty sure he knows exactly who he is from thing’s Harry’s said, offhand comments about his mate Zayn who’s too pretty and too vain for his own good, but Harry loves him like a brother.

****

“Yeah, er, is Harry around?” Liam questions. Must-Be-Zayn quirks an eyebrow.

****

“Who’s asking?” He muses, giving Liam another not-so-subtle up and down with those thick-lashed eyes.

****

“A friend of Louis’,” Liam says and Louis tenses as a dark looks crosses Zayn’s face.

****

“Harry’s not here right now.”

****

“You’re lying,” Liam accuses.

****

“Yeah?” Zayn quips, quick and snarky.

****

“Just let me in, yeah? Harry should really hear what I’ve got to say.”

****

“Why the hell should I?” Zayn demands. “Haz’s been holed up in his bedroom all week because your asshole friend Louis went off and broke his heart. Fuck, nobody else even knew this Louis bloke existed and now we’ve got a miserable Harry on our hands because your friend is a cunt.”

****

“You really must not know the whole story, then,” Liam sighs.

****

“And you do?”

****

“Probably not,” Liam shrugs. “But I can assure you that we’ll know everything soon if you just let me inside.”

****

Zayn opens his mouth but it’s a different voice that comes out, a slow, sad-sounding drawl from behind him. Louis freezes in Liam’s pocket. “Let him in, Zee.”

****

Zayn backs down, eyes still narrowed as Liam steps inside the flat. Louis doesn’t dare peek out of Liam’s pocket now to see where Harry is, if he’s close or if he’s standing cautiously afar, fearful of the repercussions if Harry sees him before Louis’ ready for him to.

****

“You said you’re a friend of Louis’?” Harry asks and he sounds closer now, but weary.

****

“Um, yes, I am,” Liam says.

****

Harry makes a noise of recognition. “Oh, I know you! You’re the bloke from the cafe. The one who gave me the teacup.”

****

“That’s me,” Liam confirms.

****

“What are you here for, then?” Harry asks and Louis wants to think he sounds hopeful, like he’s chomping at the bit for Liam to say what he wants him to say, but Louis’ scared that Harry’s waiting for something that’s going to break Louis’ heart.

****

“Louis’ got some things to say,” Liam says. Louis feels him tense, realizing his momentary slip-up. “I mean, uh, I’ve got some things to say on his behalf.”

****

Liam’s bluffing out his arse, probably because Zayn is most likely still in the vicinity, looking him up and down with eyes that Louis couldn’t tell were kind or not.

****

Harry seems to catch Liam’s slip, though, giving a little gasp as he realizes. Liam pats his jacket, just below his pocket, and it’s confirmed. “Hey Zayn, how about you take Liam here down to the Pret a couple streets away? Treat him to something on me.”

****

Zayn makes a noise of protest, though it sounds more laced with confusion that unwillingness. Louis figures that has something to do with the way Zayn had been solidly checking Liam out when he’d first answered the door. “The hell, Haz -”

****

“Just do it, okay?” Harry says, exasperated. “For me?”

****

Zayn sighs in defeat. “Fine. Coming then, Liam?”

****

Liam makes an awkward, unsure sound and Louis rolls his eyes. Thankfully, Harry saves him, coming in with a, “I’m just going to take him into the kitchen, for a sec. Give him the money.”

****

“I thought I was treating?” Zayn mumbles and Louis can imagine he’s probably shaking his head.

****

“I don’t trust you holding money after you took the twenty pounds I gave you to buy pizza and bought booze and fags with it.” Harry says.

****

“Guess I can’t blame you,” Zayn says noncommittally. He’s probably just shrugged.

****

Louis’ jerked a bit in Liam’s pocket as Liam starts walking, most likely following Harry through the flat to the kitchen. Louis’ feeling more antsy, more anxious now than he has before just thinking about what will happen when he sees Harry face to face for the first time since he left so abruptly.

****

Louis’ startled when Liam’s hand delves into the pocket and grabs Louis by the back of his shirt, pulling him out. He’s set on the table top right quick and he keeps his eyes down. He knows Harry must be staring at him, a million words racing through his head, trapped by a voice too slow to utter them all.

****

“I’ll be going,” Liam says. “You both have quite a bit to discuss.”

****

Louis hears more than sees Liam take his leave, and then he’s left alone with Harry. The kitchen feels more charged than it’s ever felt before, tension so thick it’s tangible, and Louis doesn’t dare speak first.

****

He doesn’t have to.

****

Harry slides into one of the kitchen chairs. “I would punch you right now if you weren’t so small,” he says. Louis looks up, startled, and he wishes he hadn’t.

****

Harry looks terrible.

****

He’s got deep bags under his eyes, nearly purple in color. His curls are dull, looking like Harry’s completely given up on keeping them in order. His skin is paler than normal, pallor nearly white, and while pale looked magnificent on Harry, this white does not. He’s wrapped in a thick bathrobe, looking small for the very first time since Louis’ known him.

****

“I take it you’re right pissed, then?” Louis asks and it feels like a weight off his chest, speaking to Harry again even if it could end with him getting his heart broken.

****

“Right pissed is an understatement,” Harry says, green eyes sharp behind the drowsy fogginess.

****

“Reasonable,” Louis shrugs.

****

“Reasonable?” Harry’s tone is incredulous and his expression matches as such. “Fuck, Louis, you left completely out of the blue the other day with a reason that was utter bullshit if you ask me, and now you’re back? You’re messing with my head, Louis, and I’ve the right to be downright furious.”

****

Louis sighs. “I told you why I wanted to leave.” He says, simply because he doesn’t know what else to.

****

“You told me that you didn’t want my help any more,” Harry says, bitter. “If that was so, why are you here?”

****

“Can’t I just come visit a mate?” Louis says, trying to ease the tension in the air a bit, but the expression on Harry’s face tells him it’s not really working. His eyes are stony and his face is a glacier, cold and calm, yet hiding so much under the surface. Louis sighs.

****

“I didn’t like the way things were left,” Louis admits, folding his hands in his lap. Harry quirks an eyebrow. His face is still cold. “I had to know how you were dealing. If you were happy I left or if you were bummed but would get over it.”

 

“Why would I be happy you left?” Harry asks and that’s the question Louis had been dreading. He doesn’t want to answer because answering means spilling everything, laying all his insecurities out for Harry to scrutinize on the table.

****

“I thought you’d be happy,” Louis starts, hesitancy making his voice waver. “Because you wouldn’t have to be burdened with me anymore.” Louis meets Harry’s eyes and Harry’s just staring at him, waiting politely for him to go on. Louis drops his eyes before he does. “I know you said I wasn’t a burden to you but I just couldn’t make myself believe it. Everything you did you had to think of me before you did it, and I hated thinking like I was holding you back from living the life you wanted to. You couldn’t be reckless or anything because you had me to worry about back here at the flat. You always needed to think of me first and I hated that. I felt that even though you said I wasn’t a burden you’d wake up one day and think that you’d made a huge mistake taking me in.

****

“And then it all got worse when I realized I was falling for you,” Louis says, and there it is. Harry gives a small gasp and Louis flinches, waiting for Harry to go off and call him stupid for ever thinking that they could be more than simply friends because as it was, Louis had no hope of ever being big again. Harry doesn’t speak. Louis continues. “I hated myself for it and I felt - I don’t know. I felt dirty, perhaps? Because I was falling in love with the person that was providing everything for me just to live a semi-normal life. I thought I could deal with it, though, you know? But it’s turns out I couldn’t.

****

“I was plenty alright with you going to Niall’s that night for the party. You deserved a night out and I felt like I was apt enough to take care of myself for a night. But then,” Louis has to stop, pause to take a breath. “But then you came smashing into the flat at some horrid hour with some random man I’d never seen you even associate once with before and I should have known what you were planning on doing with him but I was stupid, and I saw something I wish I’d never had.

****

“That’s when I realized that I couldn’t stay here,” Louis says. Harry’s still not speaking and Louis desires to know how he has it in him, that amount of self-control. If Louis were in his spot, he’d be breaking in every other sentence to get his two-cents in, but not Harry. Harry’s just watching him, listening with his bottom lip drawn up between his teeth and Louis winces because he’s beautiful and Louis’ still in love with him.

****

“I knew then that as long as I was here, it’d always be like that. It’d always be you sneaking blokes into the apartment and me wishing I didn’t know what you were doing with them and that I could be in their place. I had to go back home and try to live on my own or stay and make myself miserable because I couldn’t ever tell you how if felt. I knew if I told you and you didn’t feel the same way it’d ruin everything. But then again, leaving seems to have done a pretty ruining everything, I’d reckon.”

****

It’s quiet for a beat or two before Harry’s shaking his head, eyes boring into Louis’ when he says, “It hasn’t ruined everything.”

****

Louis shakes his head, not wanting to start thinking that maybe, just maybe, it’s not as impossible as he’d initially thought for Harry to love him back. “Don’t,” Louis begs, not sure what he’s really begging for.

****

“Don’t what, Louis?” Harry asks, voiced tinged with exasperation. “Don’t tell you what you want to hear? Don’t tell you that you haven’t ruined everything because I feel the sa-”

****

“Stop!” Louis throws his hands up, pressing them against his ears. “Please, you can tell me that I haven’t ruined our friendship, but don’t tell me you feel the same.” He feels like an idiot, Louis does, telling Harry not to say he feels the same because isn’t that what he’d wanted? He wanted Harry to tell him he loved him back and they’d ride of into the sunset or some other bullshit that happens in romantic comedies, but now that it’s happening and Harry’s about to say the words, he doesn’t want to hear it.

****

Because even if Harry does love him, if he wants to be with Louis, it will never be the proper love Harry deserves, as long as he’s little.

****

“Why are you being such a bloody hypocrite, Louis?!” Harry bursts. He runs a pasty hand through his drab curls, pushing them out of his face for a split second before they droop back to where they were before he’d touched them. “I thought this is what you wanted!”

****

“It is!” Louis says. “Fuck, no, I don’t -” He feels like he’s drowning, struggling against the current inside him, threatening to pull his head underwater and hold him there until his lungs burst, deeper and deeper into the cold and the dark, freezing him as the breath his yanked from inside him. “I want you to love me,” Louis finally says, quiet and strangled. “But then again I don’t, because I can’t love you like you should be loved.”

****

Harry lets out one long, exasperated sigh. He holds out a hand, fingertips touching at the cross of Louis’ knees. The atmosphere in the room shifts, breaking and opening in a fissure. The air lifts as Harry’s fingers brush Louis’ knees, and he doesn’t think twice about climbing into Harry’s open palm.

****

“That’s what you’re worried about?” Harry asks, eyebrows raised. He draws Louis close to him, up to his face. “That you can’t love me proper?”

****

Louis shrugs. “How can I?” he muses. “I can’t do anything for you. I can’t take you out on a date. I can’t - I can’t please you sexually or - or anything. Shit, Harry you had to bring somebody else home to fuck that last night because you had no other option. I bet you didn’t even think of me as an option, did you?”

****

Harry’s expression falls, going sheepish. “No, I didn’t,” he admits. “But you know why I slept with Nick?" Louis shrugs, leaving Harry an opening to continue on. "Because I wanted to distract myself from how I felt about you. I thought that if I could fuck somebody else it’d make me forget, but it didn’t. And then you left the next morning and it hurt me so much, Louis. I don’t give a fuck if you think you can’t love me proper because you’re little because I don’t need it. I just need you.”

****

Louis’ bursting by the time Harry’s done, bubbling up at the seams. “You - are you lying to me?”

****

Harry snorts, tossing his head back as he laughs, and he looks bright again for the first time since he and Louis started talking. “No, Lou, ‘m not lying to you.”

****

“So you promise you’ll be happy with just me? Even if I’m never big again?” Louis asks, just to make sure. Harry nods.

****

“I’d want you even if you got smaller,” he says. “Although I’d be afraid I’d lose you in the sofa.”

****

Louis snorts, reaching out to bat Harry on the nose. Harry squawks. “We’re alright then, yeah?”

****

Harry smiles. “Yeah, we’re alright.”

****

“Go shower then,” Louis says, crinkling his nose. “Because you smell like arse.”

****

Harry gives an indignant, “ _Heeeeeey_.” pouting with his stupid, giant lips. “Can’t we just go for a nap, or something? I haven’t been sleeping well. Missed this little bug that used to curl itself into my hair at night. He went away for a while and now I feel like he might just be back.”

****

Louis flushes down from his ears to his toes. “Alright, then. Nap it is.”

****

Harry grins hugely, popping up from his chair. Louis bobbles a bit in his palm but steadies himself, plopping down onto his arse as Harry scurries through the flat to his bedroom. “You say you haven’t been sleeping well?” Louis asks once Harry sets him on the pillow, folding over the edge of the duvet, feeling sheepish. Harry nods, stripping off the huge robe and letting to drop to the floor. He’s wearing his old, ratty Ramones t-shirt and loose, hole-covered trackies that Louis would bet are Zayn’s because he knows for a fact that Harry doesn’t own any.

****

“Nah,” Harry hums, sliding under the duvet, getting comfortable before he invites Louis over. Louis scurries over the pillow, burrowing into Harry’s hair, realizing only then how much he’s truly missed being close to Harry like this.

****

“Do you feel like you’ll sleep well now, though?” Louis asks, nuzzling into Harry’s ear.

****

“Yeah,” Harry says earnestly. “Feels like I’ve just got something important back that I’d lost. Got a weight of my shoulders and such.”

****

Louis hums, petting the soft, downy curls behind Harry’s elf ears. “‘S’good, then,” he murmurs.

****

“Real good,” Harry agrees. He sounds like he’s dozing off already.

****

“Have a good nap, then, Hazza,” Louis says, letting his eyes slip shut, matching his breathing to Harry’s.

****

“Y’too, Lou,” Harry mumbles, sleepy-slurred and wonderful.

****

His curls still smell like strawberries and Louis feels like he’s home.

****

x

****

When Louis wakes up, he feels hot. He’s fever-warm and feels like he’s tangled up with a hundred-and-fifty pound octopus. Which is abnormal because for all the nights he’d slept in Harry’s curls before he's never felt suffocated like he does now. He'd always felt safe and warm and secure, not edging on claustrophobic like he currently is.

****

He's also naked, and if his recollection is correct, he definitely went into this nap with clothes on.

****

Louis cranes his neck, trying to look around, but all he gets is a face full of strawberry curls. He makes a sputtering noise, spitting them out of his mouth when the curls get all up in it. He feels a hair stuck on his tongue - which is gross on so many levels - and reaches a hand up to pick it off.

****

He brings his hand up, and freezes. Because something's not right - or it is right and it just looks wrong, because Louis' right has been wrong for months now.

****

His hand, always so small for the past few months he's looked at it, is now big again, spanning nearly half way across Harry's head of curls. Nothing like his tiny hand that would only be able to fit across one curl on a good day.

****

Louis sticks his hand out in front of him, twisting and turning it, making fists and wiggling his fingers to make sure he's not gone mad and he's really truly turned big again.

****

His hand doesn't change during his ministrations, and Louis squeals with glee. He tries to sit up in order to get a look at the rest of his body, only to be held down by that octopus that he now realizes is Harry's limbs, tight against his body and apt on not letting him go.

****

Gingerly, as to not wake Harry up until Louis' done inventory and made sure that everything really is back to normal, Louis peels Harry's arm off from around his midsection, pressing it down against the sheets.

****

Slowly, Louis pushes the duvet down off his hips, smoothing his hands over his abdomen, going through a mental checklist, grinning to himself when everything checks off with no complications. He kicks the duvet down off his legs next, wiggling his bare toes. He checks his dick, too, making sure all of his bits have gone back to normal size as well.

****

He has to hold in a squeal of glee, overwhelmed and happy and in denial all at the same time. He never thought he was going to be big again yet here he is, stretched out in Harry's bed with his feet almost to the end, back to the size he was before all of the being small shit started.

****

Louis turns to Harry, thousands of emotions still bubbling under his skin. He can't wait for Harry to see, can't wait for Harry to see he's big again, can't wait to see Harry smile in happiness for him and kiss the grin right off his lips.

****

"Hazza," Louis murmurs, reaching out and prodding Harry on the nose, grinning with satisfaction at the fact that his finger is actually big enough to cover the whole tip. Harry makes a snuffling noise, curling deeper in on himself like a disgruntled kitten. "Harry, come on, wake up." Louis pushes his hand against Harry's shoulder, and Harry flops backwards in an awkward sprawl of limbs. He wakes with an indignant squawk, and Louis flushes, having forgotten that the strength of his normal-sized body is actually quite impressive.

****

"Louis?!" Harry calls, voice quivering with panic. Louis sucks in a breath and he realizes Harry's panicking because he doesn't realize it was Louis who pushed him and, knowing Harry, probably thinks one of his mates snuck in the apartment and woke him up and is probably sprawled on top of the duvet, crushing little Louis in the process.

****

It takes Harry a second to focus and realize that no, it's not one of his mates in bed with him, but a male with blue eyes, tan skin, and sleep-tousled hair and another second to realize that the male is Louis.

****

"Lou?!" Harry's tone is one of shocked surprise this time, and Louis feels another grin splits his face.

****

"Hey, Haz, " Louis says. Harry's eyes go wide.

****

"Louis, you're - shit, you're big!" Harry nearly shouts. Louis nods, jerky with excitement. "How -"

****

"I don't know," Louis admits. "I didn't feel any different when we went for the nap but then I woke up feeling really hot - you cuddle like a fucking octopus, by the way - and I was big again. Just like that."

****

"Shit," Harry breathes, eyes alight with satisfaction. "D'you think it's because you came back?"

****

"What do you mean?" Louis ponders, furrowing his brow.

****

Harry shrugs. "Like, when we were trying to figure out why you turned small, we thought it could be because you were meant to find somebody you couldn't while you were big. Like, divine intervention with a cheeky twist."

****

Louis quirks an eyebrow. "So you're saying I'm big again because you told me you loved me? Quite cocky of you don't you think?"

****

Harry flushes. "It just - it makes sense, though?"

****

Louis shrugs, a grin on his face. "Makes sense. I'll give you that."

****

Harry hums, not saying anything in reply in lieu of stroking his fingers over Louis' cheek. It's abnormal for Louis to feel, having remembered how it feels to be touched like that but not have had it from the time he turned small to turning big again.

****

Harry's just staring, green eyes fixed to Louis' face like he's never truly seen it before. Louis figures that he really hasn't what with Louis' having been five centimeters tall and such. Harry's lips part as he exhales, cherry red lips looking like sin. Louis has the overwhelming urge to kiss him, kiss him and feel what it's going to be like now that he's big again and can love Harry proper. _Touch_ Harry proper.

****

So Louis leans in and kisses him.

****

The second their lips touch it’s sparks. It’s every cliche Louis has ever heard to describe a kiss ever - fireworks and magic and all that shit.

****

Harry makes a sweet noise against Louis’ lips, other hand coming up to get a more solid grip on Louis’ face. His lips part and Louis tongue slips between them, licking into Harry’s gorgeous mouth.

****

Harry tastes like sleep and mint tea, hot and lovely.

****

Louis breaks from the kiss to catch his breath, stroking his thumb sweetly over the swell of Harry’s bottom lip. “I’ve been waiting so long to do that.”

****

Harry gives a snorting laugh. “Was it worth the wait?”

****

“Definitely,” Louis grins, leaning in and kissing Harry again.

****

“M’glad,” Harry murmurs, breath warm on Louis’ cheek.

****

“Me, too,” Louis hums.

****

Louis leans in for another kiss, cupping Harry’s cheek with his hand, bubbling with silent glee for the fact that he can actually do it now.

****

Out of all the times Louis had with Harry when he was small, he thinks that this single moment, laying with Harry in bed with lips slick against lips, is the greatest of them all.

****

He thinks that Harry was right, thinks that he really was turned small to give him the chance to meet Harry and know him like he never could if they’d met when he was big. He wonders if Harry would have become what he is to Louis if Louis had met him when he was big, and he doesn’t think Harry would have. Perhaps he would have been a fuck - a Nick to sneak into the flat late at night, muffling cries of pleasure into his shoulder - or maybe just a best friend, nothing more. He knows Harry never would have become his whole world in only a few short months, knows he would have never admitted to himself that he needed Harry as much as he did if Harry hadn’t been the sole person keeping Louis alive for all of the months Louis was small.

****

Harry sighs against Louis’ lips and Louis feels a wave of contentedness wash over him.

****

“We should get up,” Harry says, running a finger over Louis’ naked collar bone. “Maybe get some clothes on you?”

****

“Shit,” Louis chuckles. “Totally forgot I was starkers.”

****

“I don’t mind,” Harry grins. “Naked make outs are something I quite enjoy.”

****

“But you’re not naked,” Louis points out.

****

“I could be,” Harry smirks. Louis quirks an eyebrow.

****

“Yeah?”

****

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Later, though, because I’m starving and you’re going to make me dinner to pay me back for all the dinners I made you.”

****

Louis blanches. “I should tell you now that I can’t cook -”

****

“Hush,” Harry says, rolling out of the bed, stretching with his arms over his head. He saunters over to the wardrobe and pulls out a pair of briefs and a t-shirt, tossing them to Louis on the bed. “Put these on and meet me in the kitchen,” he orders, walking out the bedroom and leaving Louis to himself.

****

One hour and for terribly burnt grilled cheeses later Louis manages to get dinner done, wiping off the splatters on cheese from his face from when his cheese flipping had gotten a bit out of control.

****

The grilled cheese is still burnt but not fried to a crisp, and Harry eats it with a smile on his face. “We’ll work on the cooking thing,” he says and Louis shrugs, retorting with a simple “Told you so.”

****

After dinner Harry brings Louis to the sitting room and snuggles up to him on the sofa, presses play on the DVD player and the opening credits for _Love Actually_ flick on. Louis’ head rushes with a sense of deja vu, only this time he’s able to hold Harry close to his side while the movie plays instead of focusing on not falling in between the sofa cushions.

****

Harry’s head lolls into the crook of his neck, playing like little spoon even though it turns out he’s a solid head and a half taller than Louis is. “I’m happy you’re big again, Lou,” Harry hums, snuggling closer.

****

“Me too, Haz,” Louis says, running his fingers through Harry’s curls.

****

“Though I really think I’m going to miss little Lou,” Harry admits.

****

“Yeah? Why?” Louis muses.

****

Harry shrugs. “I’m not really sure,” he says. “Maybe I’m just going to miss being able to carry you around in my pockets.”

****

Louis snorts out a laugh, flicking Harry’s nose. Harry squeals, batting his hand away. “You’ve got to lose some to gain some, Hazhead.”

****

“Balls to that,” Harry snuffs, but his expression is fond. “I’m really glad to have big Lou now, though.”

****

“Yeah?”

****

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “It’s like a relief, I guess. Both of us thought that you’d never be big again and you and I wouldn’t work out because of it. But now you’re big again and I just - I feel something in my gut that’s telling me that this is how you and I were supposed to come together and we’ll stay together because of it.”

****

Harry’s staring at him with bright eyes, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Louis eases it out with a finger. “Think you’re right, love.”

****

“Think I’m right?”

****

“Know you’re right.”

****

Harry smiles, big and bright, grabbing the back of Louis’ neck and tugging him down for a kiss.

****

The movie is thrown to the wayward in lieu of making out on the sofa, not even parting when the movie’s end credits start to roll.

****

Louis feels like after all the shit he went through to get here, he’s finally got what he was destined to. Living small, losing his ability to support himself, falling for Harry, running away and then coming back - it was all worth it to get Harry under him like he’s got him now.

****

Harry was the center of his world for the whole time Louis was small and now Louis’ got the chance to be the center of Harry’s, not for necessity but because he wants to, wants to give Harry everything that Harry gave him, perhaps under a different pretense than the basic need for survival.

****

Harry plants a kiss to the skin of Louis’ neck and Louis takes a moment to thank whatever deity was responsible for making him small because what could have been an extremely shitty deal turned out to be one of the greatest things that could have ever happened to him.

 **  
**Being small gave Louis Harry - his lovely art student, teacup-collecting, slow-speaking Harry - and Louis couldn’t be more grateful.


End file.
